' 


VOLUME  I 


JOHANN  WOLFGANG  VON  GOETHE 


THE  GERMAN  ( 


Masterpieces  of  G  rature 


TRANSLATED  II 


GOETHE  AT  WEIMAR 


patron* 

IN    TWENTY 


THE  GERKi 

• 
j[-W,  th?  I'aMng  by  Wilhelrn  von  Kaulbac 


JiTA  *o<j 


THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 


Masterpieces  of  German  Literature 


TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH 


patrons1  edition 

IN    TWENTY    VOLUMES 
ILLUSTRATED 


THE  GERMAN  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright   1913 

by 
THE  GERMAN  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY 


EDITORIAL  ORGANIZATION 


Editor-in-Chief 
KUNO  FRANCKE,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  LittD. 

Professor  of  the  History  of  German  Culture  and  Curator  of  the  Germanic 
Museum,  Harvard  University 

Assistant  Editor-in-Chief 
WILLIAM  GUILD  HOWARD,  A.M. 

Assistant  Professor  of  German,  Harvard  University 

Literary  Editor 

WILLIAM  TENNEY  BREWSTER,  A.M. 

Professor  of  English,  Columbia  University 

Editor,  and  Chief  of  the  Board  of  Translators 
ISIDORE  SINGER,  Ph.D. 

Author  of  Die  beiden  Elektren;  Humanistische  Bildung  und  der  Klassisehe 
Unterricht;  translator  of  Foucher  de  Careil's  Hegel  et  Schopenhauer 

Managing  Editor 

GEORGE  EDWIN  RINES 

Editor  of  the  Encyclopedia  Americana,  The  South  in  the  Building  of   the 
Nation,  The  Foundation  Library,  etc. 


CONSULTING  EXECUTIVE  BOARD 


PAUL  CLEMEN,  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  the  History  of  Art  at  the  University  of  Bonn;  Exchange  Pro- 
fessor at  Harvard  University,  1907-1908 

RUDOLF   EUCKEN,  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  at  the  University  of  Jena;   Exchange  Professor  at 
Harvard  University,  1912-1913 

MAX  FRIEDLANDER,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  the  History  of  Music  at  the  University  of  Berlin;   Exchange 
Professor  at  Harvard  University,  1910-11 

EUGEN   KUHNEMANN,   Ph.D.t  Litt.D., 

Professor  of  Philosophy  at  the  University  of  Breslau;  Exchange  Professor  of 

German   Literature  at  Harvard  University,   1906-07   and    1908-09; 

Carl  Schurz  Professor  at  the  University  of  Wisconsin,  1912-13 

HUGO    MUNSTERBERG,  Ph.D.f  M.D.,  LL.D.,  Litt.D. 

Professor  of  Psychology,   Harvard  University;    Exchange   Professor   at  the 
University  of  Berlin,  1910-11 

JULIUS  PETERSEN,  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  German  Literature  at  the  University  of  Basle;   Visiting  Pro- 
fessor at  Yale  University,  1912-13 

CALVIN  THOMAS,  LL.D. 
Professor  of  Germanic  Languages  and  Literatures,  Columbia  University 

KUNO   FRANCKE,   Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Litt.D.,  ex  officio 
Editor-in-Chief 


CONTRIBUTORS  AND  TRANSLATORS 

VOLUME  I 


Special  Writers 

RICHAKD  M.  MEYER,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  German  Literature,  University  of 
Berlin: 

General  Introduction. 

CALVIN  THOMAS,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Germanic  Languages  and  Literatures, 
Columbia  University: 

The  Life  of  Goethe;  Introduction  to  Faust. 

KTTNO  FRANCKE,  LL.D.,  Ph.D.,  Litt.D.,  Professor  of  the  History  of  German 

Culture,  Harvard  University: 

Editor's  Preface;  The  Faust  Legend  from  Marlowe  to  Goethe. 

ARTHUR  H.  PALMER,  A.M.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  the  German  Language  and 
Literature,  Yale  University: 

Introduction  to   Hermann  and  Dorothea;   Introduction  to  Iphigenia 
in  Tauris. 

Translators 

CHARLES    WHARTON    STORK,    Ph.D.,    Instructor    in    English,    University    of 

Pennsylvania : 

Greeting  and  Departure. 

A.  I.  DU  P.  COLEMAN,  A.M.,  Professor  of  English  Literature,  College  of  the 
City  of  New  York: 
Hatem;  Reunion;  The  One  and  the  All;  A  Legacy;  Nature  and  Art,  etc. 

E.  A.  BOWRING: 

Mahomet's  Song;    Prometheus;    The  Sea- Voyage;    To  the  Moon;    The 
Fisherman,  etc. 

W.  E.  AYTOUN  and  THEODORE  MARTIN: 

Shepherd's  Lament;  Comfort  in  Tears;  Epilog  to  "Schiller's  Song  of  the 
Bell,"  etc. 

ANNA  SWANWICK: 

Iphigenia  in  Tauris;  Faust. 

ELLEN  FHOTHINGHAM: 

Hermann   and  Dorothea. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  I 

PAGE 

Literary  Organization    j 

Consulting  Executive  Board ii 

Contributors  to  Volume  I ,. ..  Hi 

Contents v 

Editor's   Preface    vii 

Publishers'   Foreword    xi 

General  Introduction.     By  Richard  M.  Meyer xiii 

The  Life  of  Goethe.     By  Calvin  Thomas 1 

POEMS 

Greeting  and  Departure.    Translated  by  Charles  Wharton  Stork 20 

The  Heathrose.    Adapted  from  the  translation  by  E.  A.  Bowring 21 

Mahomet's  Song.     Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 21 

Prometheus.       Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 23 

The  Wanderer's  Night-Song.    Adapted  from  the  translation  by  E.  A.  Bow- 
ring  25 

The  Sea- Voyage.     Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 25 

To  the  Moon.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 27 

The  Fisherman.     Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 28 

The  Wanderer's  Night-Song.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 29 

The  Erl-King.     Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 29 

The  Godlike.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 30 

Mignon.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 32 

Proximity  of  the  Beloved  One.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 33 

The  Shepherd's  Lament.       Translated  by   W.   E.   Aytoun   and   Theodore 

Martin 33 

Nature  and  Art.    Translated  by  A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman 34 

Comfort  in  Tears.    Translated  by  W.  E.  Aytoun  and  Theodore  Martin . .  35 
Epilog  to  Schiller's  "  Song  of  the  Bell."     Translated  by  W.  E.  Aytoun 

and  Theodore  Martin 3& 

Ergo  Bibamus.     Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 39 

The  Walking  Bell.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 40 

Found.     Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 41 

Hatem.     Translated  by  A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman 41 

Reunion.   Translated  by  A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman 42 

Prooemion.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 44 

The  One  and  The  All.    Translated  by  A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman 44 

Lines  on  Seeing  Schiller's  Skull.    Translated  by  E.  A.  Bowring 45 

A  Legacy.    Translated  by  A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman 46 

*         '    •»              *           J*              *              «              «              •              •  * 

Introduction  to  Hermann  and  Dorothea.     By  Arthur  H.  Palmer 48 

Hermann  and  Dorothea.    Translated  by  Ellen  Frothingham 51 

DRAMAS 

Introduction  to  Iphigenia  in  Tauris.    By  Arthur  H.  Palmer 154 

Iphigenia  in  Tauris.    Translated  by  Anna  Swanwick 157 

The  Faust  Legend  from  Marlowe  to  Goethe.     By  Kuno  Francke 230 

Introduction  to  Faust.    Calvin  Thomas 235 

Faust  (Part  I) .    Translated  by  Anna  Swanwick 2 

Faust  (Part  II).    Translated  by  Anna  Swanwick 422 


ILLUSTRATIONS  — VOLUME  I 

PAGE 

Goethe  at  Weimar.     By  Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach Frontispiece 

Goethe.     By  J..  Jager 2 

Goethe.     By  J.  Stieler 6 

Goethe's  Houses  in  Weimar 8 

Goethe  in  the  Campagna.     By  J.  H.  W.  Tischbein 10 

Monument  to  Goethe  in  Berlin.     By  Fritz  Schaper 14 

Monument  to  Goethe  in  Rome.     By  Eberlein 16 

The  Death  of  Goethe.     By  Fritz  Fleischer 18 

The  Heathrose.    By  K.  Kogler 20 

Prometheus.     By  Titian 24 

The  Fisherman  and  the  Mermaid.     By  Georg  Papperitz 28 

Hermann's  Parents  in  the  Doorway  of  the  Tavern.     By  Ludwig  Richter. .  52 
Hermann  hands  to  Dorothea  the  Linen  for  the  Emigrants.     By  Ludwig 

Richter 62 

The  Mother  defending  Hermann.     By  Ludwig  Richter 78 

Mother  and  Son.     By  Ludwig  Richter 84 

The  Emigrants  in  the  Village.     By  Ludwig  Richter 102 

The  Parson  and  the  Apothecary  watch  Dorothea.     By  Ludwig  Richter...  112 

Hermann  and  Dorothea  meet  at  the  Fountain.    By  Ludwig  Richter 122 

Hermann  and  Dorothea  under  the  Pear-tree.     By  Ludwig  Richter 134 

The  Betrothal.     By  Ludwig  Richter 148 

Iphigenia.     By    Anselm    Feuerbach 158 

The  Meeting  of  Orestes,  Iphigenia,  and  Pylades.    By  Angelica  Kauffmann  200 

Iphigenia.     By  Max  Nonnenbruch 206 

Faust  and  Mephistopheles.     By  Liezen-Mayer 296 

Margaret.    By  Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach 342 

Faust  and  Margaret.     By  Carl  Becker 360 

Faust  and  Margaret  in  the  Garden.     By  Liezen-Mayer 364 

The  Death  of  Valentine.     By  Franz  Simm 388 

Margaret's  Downfall.     By  Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach 390 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE 


T  is  surprising  how  little  the  English-speaking 
world  knows  of  German  literature  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Goethe  and  Schiller 
found  their  herald  in  Carlyie ;  Fichte  's  ideal- 
istic philosophy  helped  to  mold  Emerson's 
view  of  life;  Amadeus  Hoffmann  influenced  Poe;  Uhland 
and  Heine  reverberate  in  Longfellow;  Sudermann  and 
Hauptmann  appear  in  the  repertory  of  London  and  New 
York  theatres  —  these  brief  statements  include  nearly  all 
the  names  which  to  the  cultivated  Englishman  and  Amer- 
ican of  today  stand  for  German  literature. 

THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS  OP  THE  NINETEENTH  AND  TWEN- 
TIETH CENTURIES  has  been  planned  to  correct  this  narrow 
and  inadequate  view.  Here  for  the  first  time  English 
readers  will  find  a  panorama  of  the  whole  of  German  liter- 
ature from  Goethe  to  the  present  day;  here  for  the  first 
time  they  will  find  the  most  representative  writers  of  each 
period  brought  together  and  exhibited  by  their  most  repre- 
sentative works ;  here  for  the  first  time  an  opportunity  will 
be  offered  to  form  a  just  conception  of  the  truly  remark- 
able literary  achievements  of  Germany  during  the  last 
hundred  years. 

For  it  is  a  grave  mistake  to  assume,  as  has  been  assumed 
only  too  often,  that,  after  the  great  epoch  of  Classicism  and 
Romanticism  in  the  early  decades  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
Germany  produced  but  little  of  universal  significance,  or 
that,  after  Goethe  and  Heine,  there  were  but  few  Germans 
worthy  to  be  mentioned  side  by  side  with  the  great  writers 
of  other  European  countries.  True,  there  is  no  German 
Tolstoy,  no  German  Ibsen,  no  German  Zola — but  then,  is 
there  a  Russian  Nietzsche,  or  a  Norwegian  Wagner,  or  a 
French  Bismarck?  Men  like  these,  men  of  revolutionary 
genius,  men  who  start  new  movements  and  mark  new  epochs, 

[vu] 


viii  EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

are  necessarily  rare  and  stand  isolated  in  any  people  and 
at  all  times.  The  three  names  mentioned  indicate  that 
Germany,  during  the  last  fifty  years,  has  contributed  a 
goodly  share  even  of  such  men.  Quite  apart,  however,  from 
such  men  of  overshadowing  genius  and  all-controlling 
power,  can  it  be  truly  said  that  Germany,  since  Goethe's 
time,  has  been  lacking  in  writers  of  high  aim  and  notable 
attainment? 

It  can  be  stated  without  reservation  that,  taken  as  a 
whole,  the  German  drama  of  the  nineteenth  century  has 
maintained  a  level  of  excellence  superior  to  that  reached  by 
the  drama  of  almost  any  other  nation  during  the  same  period. 
Schiller's  Wallenstein  and  Tell,  Goethe's  Iphigenie  and 
Faust,  Kleist's  Prinz  Friedrich  von  Hamburg,  Grillparzer's 
Medea,  Hebbel's  Maria  Magdalene  and  Die  Nibelungen, 
Otto  Ludwig's  Der  Erbforster,  Freytag's  Die  Journalisten, 
Anzengruber 's  Der  Meineidbauer,  Wilbrandt's  Der  Meister 
von  Palmyra,  Wildenbruch's  Konig  Heinrich,  Sudermann's 
Heimat,  Hauptmann's  Die  Weber  and  Der  arme  Heinrich, 
Hof mannsthal 's  Elektra,  and,  in  addition  to  all  these,  the 
great  musical  dramas  of  Richard  Wagner — this  is  a  cen- 
tury's record  of  dramatic  achievement  of  which  any  nation 
might  be  proud.  I  doubt  whether  either  the  French  or  the 
Russian  or  the  Scandinavian  stage  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, as  a  whole,  comes  up  to  this  standard.  Certainly, 
the  English  stage  has  nothing  which  could  in  any  way  be 
compared  with  it. 

That  German  lyric  verse  of  the  last  hundred  years  should 
have  been  distinguished  by  beauty  of  structure,  depth  of 
feeling,  and  wealth  of  melody,  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if 
we  remember  that  this  was  the  century  of  the  revival  of 
folk-song,  and  that  it  produced  such  song-composers  as 
Schubert  and  Schumann  and  Robert  Franz  and  Hugo  Wolf 
and  Richard  Strauss.  But  it  seems  strange  that,  apart 
from  Heine,  even  the  greatest  of  German  lyric  poets,  such 
as  Platen,  Lenau,  Morike,  Annette  von  Droste,  Geibel, 
Liliencron,  Dehmel,  Miinchhausen,  Rilke,  should  be  so  little 
known  beyond  the  borders  of  the  Fatherland. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE  ix 

The  German  novel  of  the  past  century  was,  for  a  long 
time,  unquestionably  inferior  to  both  the  English  and  the 
French  novel  of  the  same  epoch.  But  in  the  midst  of  much 
that  is  tiresome  and  involved  and  artificial,  there  stand  out, 
even  in  the  middle  of  the  century,  such  masterpieces  of 
characterization  as  Otto  Ludwig's  Zwischen  Himmel  und 
Erde  or  Wilhelm  Raabe's  Der  Hungerpastor,  such  delight- 
ful revelations  of  genuine  humor  as  Fritz  Renter's  Ut  mine 
Stromtid,  such  penetrating  studies  of  social  conditions  as 
Gustav  Freytag's  Soil  und  Haben.  And  during  the  last 
third  of  the  century  there  has  clearly  developed  a  new, 
forcible,  original  style  of  German  novel  writing.  Seldom 
has  the  short  story  been  handled  more  skilfully  and 
felicitously  than  by  such  men  as  Paul  Heyse,  Gottfried 
Keller,  C.  F.  Meyer,  Theodor  Storm.  Seldom  has  the  novel 
of  tragic  import  and  passion  been  treated  with  greater 
refinement  and  delicacy  than  in  such  works  as  Fontane's 
Effl  Briest,  Ricarda  Huch's  Ludolf  Ursleu,  Wilhelm  von 
Polenz's  Der  Biittnerbauer,  or  Ludwig  Thoma's  Andreas 
Vost.  And  it  may  be  doubted  whether,  at  the  present 
moment,  there  is  any  country  where  the  novel  is  repre- 
sented by  so  many  gifted  writers  or  exhibits  such  exuberant 
vitality,  such  sturdy  truthfulness,  such  seriousness  of  pur- 
pose, or  such  a  wide  range  of  imagination  as  in  contempo- 
rary Germany. 

All  these  dramatists,  lyric  poets,  and  novelists,  and  with 
them  not  a  few  essayists,  philosophers,  orators,  and  pub- 
licists,* of  the  nineteenth  and  twentieth  centuries  will  speak 
in  the  following  volumes  to  America  and  other  countries 
of  the  English  language.  They  have  been  arranged,  in  the 
main,  chronologically.  The  first  three  volumes  have  been 
given  to  the  mature  work  of  Goethe  and  Schiller — time- 
tested  and  securely  niched.  Volumes  IV  and  V  contain  the 
principal  Romanticists,  including  Fichte  and  Schelling;  Vol- 
ume VI  brings  Heine,  Grillparzer,  and  Beethoven  to  view; 

•  For  lack  of  space,  scientists  and  historians  have  been  excluded. 


x  EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

Volume  VII,  Hegel  and  Young  Germany;  Volume  VIII, 
Auerbach,  Gotthelf,  and  Fritz  Reuter;  Volume  IX,  Heb- 
bel  and  Ludwig;  Volume  X,  Bismarck,  Moltke,  Lassalle. 
Of  the  second  half  of  the  collection  there  might  be 
singled  out:  Volume  XIV  (Gottfried  Keller  and  C.  F. 
Meyer) ;  Volume  XV  (Schopenhauer,  Wagner,  Nietzsche, 
Emperor  William  II);  Volume  XVIII  (Gerhart  Haupt- 
mann,  Detlev  von  Liliencron,  Richard  Dehmel).  The  last 
two  volumes  will  be  devoted  to  the  most  recent  of  con- 
temporary authors. 

The  editors  have  been  fortunate  in  associating  with  them- 
selves a  notable  number  of  distinguished  contributors  from 
many  universities  and  colleges  in  this  country  and  abroad. 
A  general  introduction  to  the  whole  series  has  been  written 
by  Professor  Richard  M.  Meyer  of  the  University  of  Berlin. 
The  last  two  volumes  will  be  in  charge  of  Professor  Julius 
Petersen  of  the  University  of  Basel.  The  introductions  to 
Goethe  and  Schiller  have  been  prepared  by  Professor  Cal- 
vin Thomas,  of  Columbia  University;  that  to  the  Romantic 
Philosophers  by  Professor  Frank  Thilly,  of  Cornell  Uni- 
versity ;  that  to  Richard  Wagner  by  Professor  W.  R.  Spald- 
ing,  of  Harvard  University.  And,  similarly,  every  impor- 
tant author  in  this  collection  will  be  introduced  by  some 
authoritative  and  well  known  specialist. 

The  crux  of  the  whole  undertaking  lies  in  the  correctness 
and  adequacy  of  the  translations.  How  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  a  really  satisfactory  translation  is,  especially 
in  lyric  poetry,  no  one  realizes  more  clearly  than  the  editors. 
Their  only  comfort  is  that  they  have  succeeded  in  obtaining 
the  assistance  of  many  well  trained  and  thoroughly  equipped 
scholars,  among  them  such  names  of  poets  as  Hermann 
Hagedorn,  Percy  MacKaye,  George  Sylvester  Viereck,  and 
Martin  Schiitze. 

KUNO  FBANCKE. 


PUBLISHERS'  FOREWORD 

THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS  is  the  first  work  issued  by 
The  German  Publication  Society  in  pursuance  of  a  com- 
prehensive plan  to  open  to  the  English-speaking  people 
of  the  world  the  treasures  of  German  thought  and  achieve- 
ment in  Literature,  Art  and  Science. 

In  the  production  of  this  monumental  work  the  thanks 
and  appreciation  of  the  Publishers  are  especially  due  to 
Hugo  Keisinger,  Esq.,  whose  loyal  support  and  constant 
encouragement  have  made  possible  its  publication. 

Acknowledgment  is  also  gratefully  made  to  the  work  of 
Dr.  Isidore  Singer,  who  conceived  the  idea  of  The  German 
Classics;  to  the  editors  and  translators  for  their  pains-  / 
taking  care ;  to  the  advisory  committees  and  the  Committee 
of  Patrons  for  their  cordial  cooperation  and  support;  and 
to  authors  and  publishers  for  their  courtesy  in  granting  the 
use  of  special  copyright  material. 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

BY  RICHARD  M.  MEYER,  PH.D. 

Professor  of   German   Literature,   University  of  Berlin 

[EN  formerly  pictured  the  origin  and  de- 
velopment of  a  literature  as  an  orderless 
play  of  incalculable  forces ;  out  of  a  seeth- 
ing chaos  forms  more  or  less  definite 
arose,  and  then,  one  day,  behold!  the 
literary  earth  was  there,  with  sun  and 
moon,  water  and  mountains,  animals  and 
men.  This  conception  was  intimately  connected  with  that 
of  the  origin  of  individual  literary  compositions.  These 
likewise  —  since  the  new  * '  theory  of  genius, ' '  spreading 
from  England,  had  gained  recognition  throughout  the  whole 
of  Europe,  especially  in  those  countries  speaking  the  Ger- 
manic languages  —  were  imagined  to  be  a  mere  succession 
of  inspirations  and  even  of  improvisations.  This  view  of  the 
subject  can  no  longer  be  held  either  wholly  or  in  part, 
though  in  the  origin  and  growth  of  literature,  as  in  every 
other  origin  and  development,  much  manifestly  remains 
that  is  still  incomprehensible  and  incalculable.  But  even  as 
regards  the  individual  literary  work,  writers  themselves  — 
as  latterly  Richard  Dehmel  —  have  laid  almost  too  strong 
an  emphasis  on  the  element  of  conscious  deliberation.  And 
concerning  the  whole  literary  product  of  an  individual, 
which  seems  to  offer  the  most  instructive  analogies  to  the 
literary  achievement  of  a  people,  we  received  a  short  time 
ago  a  remarkable  opinion  from  Carl  Spitteler.  He  asserts 
that  he  is  guided  in  his  choice  of  definite  styles  and  definite 
forms  by  an  absolutely  clear  purpose ;  that  he  has,  for  ex- 
ample, essayed  every  kind  of  metre  which  could  possibly 
be  suited  to  his  "  cosmic  "  epic,  or  that  he  has  written  a 
novelette  solely  in  order  to  have  once  written  a  novelette. 

xiii 


XIV 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


Although  in  these  confessions,  as  well  as  in  Edgar  Allen 
Poe's  celebrated  Poet's  Art,  self-delusion  and  pleasure  in 
the  paradoxical  may  very  likely  be  mingled,  it  still  remains 
true  that  such  dicta  as  these  point  to  certain  peculiarities 
in  the  development  of  literatures.  Experiments  with 
all  kinds  of  forms,  imitation  of  certain  literary  genres 
without  intrinsic  necessity,  and  deliberate  selection  of  new 
species,  play  a  larger  part  in  the  history  of  modern  German 
literature  than  people  for  a  long  time  wished  to  admit.  It 
is  true,  however,  that  all  this  experimenting,  imitating,  and 
speculating,  in  the  end  serves  a  higher  necessity,  as  well  in 
the  poet  of  genius  as  in  a  great  literature. 

Three  kinds  of  forces  virtually  determine  the  general 
trend  of  all  artistic  development  as,  indeed,  of  all  other 
forms  of  evolution  —  forces  which  constitute  the  sum  total 
of  those  that  we  comprehend  under  the  joint  name  of  tradi- 
tion, a  sum  total  of  progressive  tendencies  which  we  will 
designate  as  esthetic  ideals,  and,  mediating  between  the 
two,  the  typical  development  of  the  individuals  themselves 
—  above  all,  naturally,  individuals  of  genius  who  really 
create  literature. 

These  powers  are  present  everywhere,  but  in  very  differ- 
ent proportion.  Characteristic  of  Romance  literatures  and 
also  of  the  English,  is  the  great  predominance  of  the  con- 
servative elements.  Thus  not  only  is  the  literature  of  the 
constitutional  mother-country  democratic,  but  also  the 
literature  of  France,  otherwise  so  decidedly  aristocratic :  a 
majority  dictates  its  laws  to  the  distinguished  individual 
and  is  inclined  to  ostracize  him,  if  too  headstrong,  and  exile 
him  from  the  "  Republic  of  Letters."  This,  for  instance, 
is  what  happened  to  Lord  Byron  among  the  British.  On 
the  other  hand,  German  literature,  like  Germanic  litera- 
tures in  general,  is  disposed  to  concede,  at  least  at  times, 
a  dictatorial  leadership  to  the  individual,  even  at  the  cost  of 
tradition  —  as,  for  example,  to  a  Klopstock,  a  Goethe,  or  a 
Richard  Wagner.  But,  in  exchange,  the  leader  is  often 
forced  to  uphold  his  power,  no  matter  how  much  it  may 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


xv 


have  been  due  to  his  achievements,  by  coercive  measures 

—  as,  again  for  example,  by  means  of  a  pratorian  guard 
of  partisans,  such  as  Klopstock  first  created  for  himself 
in  the  Gottinger  "  Hain,"  but  which  was  most  effectively 
organized  by  Wagner,  and  such  as  Victor  Hugo,  imitating 
the  German  model,  possessed  in  the  Young  Guard  which 
applauded   Hernani.     Another  method  of  enforcing  his 
mastery   is   the    organization   of   a   systematic  reign   of 
terror,  consisting  of  bitter  satires,  such  as  Schiller  and 
Goethe  (after  the  model  of  Pope)  founded  in  the  Xenien, 
and  the  Romanticists  established  in  many  different  forms 

—  satires  much  more  personal  and  much  better  aimed  than 
was  the  general  sort  of  mockery  which  the  Romance  or 
Romanized    imitators    of    Horace    flung    at    Bavius    and 
Msevius.     In  saying  all  this,  however,  we  have  at  the  same 
time  made  it  clear  that  the  power  and  influence  of  the 
individual  of  genius  receives  much  more  positive  expres- 
sion in  German  literature  than  in  those  which  produced 
men  like  Corneille,  Calderon,  yes,  even  Dante  and  Shakes- 
peare.   German  literary  history  is,  more  than  any  other, 
occupied  with  the  Individual. 

If  we  now  try  rapidly  to  comprehend  to  what  extent  each 
one  of  the  already  enumerated  literary  forces  has  partici- 
pated in  the  development  of  modern  German  literature,  we 
must,  first  of  all,  emphasize  the  fact  that  here  the  question 
is,  intrinsically,  one  of  construction  —  of  a  really  new 
creation. 

German  literature  since  1700  is  not  simply  the  continu- 
ation of  former  literature  with  the  addition  of  radical  inno- 
vations, as  is  the  case  with  the  literature  of  the  same  period 
in  England,  but  was  systematically  constructed  on  new 
theories  — if  it  may  be  said  that  nature  and  history  system- 
atically "  construct.'*  A  destruction,  a  suspension  of  tra- 
dition, had  taken  place,  such  as  no  other  civilized  nation 
has  ever  experienced  in  a  like  degree — in  which  connection 
the  lately  much-disputed  question  as  to  whether  the  com- 


XVI 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


plete  decay  dates  from  the  time  of  the  Thirty  Years '  War 
or  the  latter  merely  marks  the  climax  of  a  long  period  of 
decadence  may  be  left  to  take  care  of  itself.  In  any  event, 
about  the  year  1700  the  literature  of  Germany  stood  lower 
than  that  of  any  other  nation,  once  in  possession  of  a  great 
civilization  and  literature,  has  ever  stood  in  recent  times. 
Everything,  literally  everything,  had  to  be  created  de 
novo;  and  it  is  natural  that  a  nation  which  had  to  struggle 
for  its  very  existence,  for  which  life  itself  had  become  a 
daily  questioning  of  fate,  could  at  first  think  of  renovation 
only  through  its  conservative  forces.  Any  violent  commo- 
tion in  the  religious  or  political,  in  the  economic  or  social, 
sphere,  as  well  as  in  the  esthetic,  might  prove  fatal,  or  at 
least  appear  to  be  so. 

The  strongest  conservative  factor  of  a  literature  is  the 
language.  Upon  its  relative  immutability  depends,  in  gen- 
eral, the  possibility  of  literary  compositions  becoming  the 
common  possession  of  many  generations  —  depends  abso- 
lutely all  transmission.  Especially  is  poetic  language  wont 
to  bear  the  stamp  of  constancy;  convenient  formulas, 
obvious  rhymes,  established  epithets,  favorite  metaphors, 
do  not,  in  periods  of  exhaustion,  afford  much  choice  in  the 
matter  of  phraseology.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  a  new 
tenor  of  thought,  often  enough  a  new  tenor  of  feeling,  is 
continually  pressing  forward  to  demand  a  medium  of  ex- 
pression. This  battle  between  the  established  linguistic 
form  and  the  new  content  gives  rise  to  charming,  but  at 
the  same  time  alarming,  conflicts.  In  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury it  was  felt  strongly  how  much  the  store  of  linguistic 
expression  had  diminished,  partly  on  account  of  a  violent 
and  careless  "  working  of  the  mine,"  which  made  prodigal 
use  of  the  existing  medium,  as  was  the  case  in  the  prose  of 
Luther  and,  above  all,  of  Johann  Fischart  and  his  con- 
temporaries ;  partly  on  account  of  a  narrow  confinement  to 
a  small  number  of  ideas  and  words,  as  in  the  church  hymns. 
This  impoverishment  of  the  language  the  century  of 
the  great  war  tried  to  remedy  in  two  opposite  ways.  For 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


xvu 


the  majority  the  easiest  solution  was  to  borrow  from  their 
richer  neighbors,  and  thus  originated  that  affectation  of  all 
things  foreign,  which,  in  speaking,  led  to  the  most  varie- 
gated use   and  misuse   of  foreign  words.     Patriotically- 
minded  men,  on  the  contrary,  endeavored  to  cultivate  the 
purity  of  their  mother  tongue  the  while  they  enriched  it; 
this,  above  all,  was  the  ambition  of  the  various  "  Linguistic 
Societies."    Their  activity,  though  soon  deprived  of  a  wide 
usefulness  by  pedantry  and  a  clannish  spirit,  prepared  the 
way  for  great  feats  of  linguistic  reorganization.     Through 
Christian  Wolff  a  philosophic  terminology  was  systematic- 
ally created;  from  Pietism  were  received  new  mediums  of 
expression  for  intimate  conditions  of  the  soul ;  neither  must 
we  quite  overlook  the  fact  that  to  some  extent  a  new  system 
of  German  titles  and  official  designations  was  associated 
with  the  new  institutions  of  the  modern  state.    More  im- 
portant, however,  than  these  details — which  might  have 
been  accomplished  by  men  like  Johann  Gottfried  Herder, 
Immanuel  Kant  and  Goethe;  like  the  statesman,  Heinrich 
Freiherr  von  Stein ;  and  the  warrior,  General  von  Scharn- 
horst — was  this  fact  that,  in  general,  an  esthetic  interest 
had   been   again   awakened   in   the   language,   which   too 
long  had  served  as  a  mere  tool.     Also  the  slowly  devel- 
oping  study   of   language   was   of   some   help;   even  the 
falsest  etymology  taught  people  to  look  upon  words  as 
organisms ;  even  the  most  superficial  grammar,  to  observe 
broad  relationships  and  parallel  formations.    So,  then,  the 
eighteenth  century  could,  in  the  treatment  of  the  mother 
tongue,   enter  upon   a  goodly  heritage,   of  which  for  a 
long  time  Johann  Christoph  Gottsched  might  not  unjustly 
be  counted  the  guardian.    It  was  a  thoroughly  conserva- 
tive linguistic  stewardship,  which  received  gigantic  expres- 
sion in  Adelung's  Dictionary — with  all  its  deficiencies,  the 
most  important  German  dictionary  that  had  been  compiled 
up  to  that  time.    Clearness,  intelligibleness,  exactitude  were 
insisted  upon.     It  was  demanded  that  there  should  be  a 
distinct  difference  between  the  language  of  the  writer  and 


xviii  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

that  in  everyday  use,  and  again  a  difference  between  poetic 
language  and  prose;  on  the  other  hand,  great  care  had  to 
be  taken  that  the  difference  should  never  become  too  great, 
so  that  common  intelligibility  should  not  suffer.  Thus  the 
new  poetic  language  of  Klopstock,  precisely  on  account  of 
its  power  and  richness,  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the  bit- 
terest mockery  and  the  most  injudicious  abuse  from  the 
partisans  of  Gottsched.  As  the  common  ideal  of  the  peda- 
gogues of  language,  who  were  by  no  means  merely  narrow- 
minded  pedants,  one  may  specify  that  which  had  long  ago 
been  accomplished  for  France  —  namely,  a  uniform  choice 
of  a  stock  of  words  best  suited  to  the  needs  of  a  clear  and 
luminous  literature  for  the  cultivated  class,  and  the  sty- 
listic application  of  the  same.  Two  things,  above  all,  were 
neglected:  they  failed  to  realize  (as  did  France  also)  the 
continual  development  of  a  healthy  language,  though  the 
ancients  had  glimpses  of  this;  and  they  failed  (this  in 
contrast  to  France)  to  comprehend  the  radical  differences 
between  the  various  forms  of  literary  composition.  There- 
fore the  pre-classical  period  still  left  enough  to  be  done  by 
the  classical. 

It  was  Klopstock  who  accomplished  the  most ;  he  created 
a  new,  a  lofty  poetic  language,  which  was  to  be  recognized, 
not  by  the  use  of  conventional  metaphors  and  swelling 
hyperboles,  but  by  the  direct  expression  of  a  highly  exalted 
mood.  However,  the  danger  of  a  forced  overstraining  of 
the  language  was  combatted  by  Christoph  Martin  Wieland, 
who  formed  a  new  and  elegant  narrative  prose  on  Greek, 
French,  and  English  models,  and  also  introduced  the  same 
style  into  poetic  narrative,  herein  abetted  by  Friedrich  von 
Hagedorn  as  his  predecessor  and  co-worker.  Right  on  the 
threshold,  then,  of  the  great  new  German  literature  another 
mixture  of  styles  sprang  up,  and  we  see,  for  example, 
Klopstock  strangely  transplanting  his  pathos  into  the  field 
of  theoretical  researches  on  grammar  and  metrics,  and 
Wieland  not  always  keeping  his  irony  aloof  from  the  most 
solemn  subjects.  But  beside  them  stood  Gotthold  Ephraim 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


xix 


Lessing  who  proved  himself  to  be  the  most  thoughtful  of 
the  reformers  of  poetry,  in  that  he  emphasized  the  divi- 
sions—  especially  necessary  for  the  stylistic  development 
of  German  poetry  —  of  literary  categories  and  the  arts. 
The  most  far-reaching  influence,  however,  was  exercised 
by  Herder,  when  he  preached  that  the  actual  foundation  of 
all  poetic  treatment  of  language  was  the  individual  style, 
and  exemplified  the  real  nature  of  original  style,  i.  e.,  in- 
wardly-appropriate modes  of  expression,  by  referring,  on 
the  one  hand,  to  the  poetry  of  the  people  and,  on  the  other, 
to  Shakespeare  or  the  Bible,  the  latter  considered  as  a 
higher  type  of  popular  poetry. 

So  the  weapons  lay  ready  to  the  hand  of  the  dramatist 
Lessing,  the  lyric  poet  Goethe,  and  the  preacher  Herder, 
who  had  helped  to  forge  them  for  their  own  use ;  for  drama, 
lyrics,  and  oratory  separate  themselves  quite  naturally 
from  ordinary  language,  and  yet  in  their  subject  matter,  in 
the  anticipation  of  an  expectant  audience,  in  the  unavoid- 
able connection  with  popular  forms  of  speech,  in  singing, 
and  the  very  nature  of  public  assemblies,  they  have  a  basis 
that  prevents  them  from  becoming  conventional.  But  not 
quite  so  favorable  was  the  condition  of  the  different  varie- 
ties of  narrative  composition.  Here  a  peculiarly  specific 
style,  such  as  the  French  novel  especially  possesses,  never 
reached  complete  perfection.  The  style  of  Wieland  would 
necessarily  appear  too  light  as  soon  as  the  subject  matter 
of  the  novel  became  more  intimate  and  personal;  that  of 
the  imitators  of  Homer  necessarily  too  heavy.  Perhaps 
here  also  Lessing 's  sense  of  style  might  have  furnished  a 
model  of  permanent  worth,  in  the  same  way  that  he  fur- 
nished one  for  the  comedy  and  the  didactic  drama,  for  the 
polemic  treatise  and  the  work  of  scientific  research.  For 
is  not  the  tale  of  the  three  rings,  which  forms  the  kernel 
of  Nathan  the  Wise,  numbered  among  the  great  standard 
pieces  of  German  elocution,  in  spite  of  all  the  contradic- 
tions and  obscurities  which  have  of  late  been  pointed  out  in 
it,  but  which  only  the  eye  of  the  microscopist  can  perceive! 


xx  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

In  general  it  is  the  ' '  popular  philosophers  ' '  who  have, 
more  than  any  one  else,  produced  a  fixed  prose  style;  as 
a  reader  of  good  but  not  exclusively  classical  education 
once  acknowledged  to  me  that  the  German  of  J.  J.  Engel 
was  more  comprehensible  to  him  and  seemed  more 
"  modern  "  than  that  of  Goethe.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
narrator  Goethe,  in  the  enchanting  youthful  composition 
of  Werther,  did  venture  very  close  to  the  lyrical,  but  in  his 
later  novels  his  style  at  times  dangerously  approached  a 
dry  statement  of  facts,  or  a  rhetorically  inflated  declama- 
tion; and  even  in  The  Elective  Affinities,  which  stands 
stylistically  higher  than  any  of  his  other  novels,  he  has  not 
always  avoided  a  certain  stiltedness  that  forms  a  painful 
contrast  to  the  warmth  of  his  sympathy  for  the  characters. 
On  the  other  hand,  in  scientific  compositions  he  succeeded 
in  accomplishing  what  had  hitherto  been  unattainable  — 
just  because,  in  this  case,  the  new  language  had  first  to  be 
created  by  him. 

Seldom  are  even  the  great  writers  of  the  following  period 
quite  free  from  the  danger  of  a  lack-lustre  style  in  their 
treatment  of  the  language,  above  all  in  narrative  composi- 
tion. It  is  only  in  the  present  day  that  Thomas  Mann, 
Jacob  Wassermann,  and  Ricarda  Huch  are  trying  along 
different  lines,  but  with  equal  zeal,  to  form  a  fixed  indi- 
vidual style  for  the  German  prose-epic.  The  great  excep- 
tions of  the  middle  period,  the  writers  of  prose-epics 
Jeremias  Gotthelf  and  Gottfried  Keller,  the  novelists  Paul 
Heyse  and  Marie  von  Ebner-Eschenbach,  the  narrator  of 
anecdotes  Ludwig  Anzengruber,  with  his  greater  prede- 
cessor Johann  Peter  Hebel,  and  his  lesser  contemporary 
Peter  Rosegger,  the  portrayer  of  still-life  Adalbert  Stifter 
and  a  few  others,  have,  more  by  a  happy  instinct  than  any- 
thing else,  hit  upon  the  style  proper  to  their  form  of  com- 
position, lack  of  which  prevents  us  from  enjoying  an  endless 
number  of  prose  works  of  the  nineteenth  century,  which,  as 
far  as  their  subject  matter  goes,  are  not  unimportant.  In 
this  connection  I  will  only  mention  Karl  Gutzkow's  novels 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

describing  his  own  period,  or,  from  an  earlier  time,  Clemens 
Brentano's  fairy  tales,  Friedrich  Hebbel's  humoresques,  or 
even  the  rhetorically  emotional  historical  compositions  of 
Heinrich  von  Treitschke,  found  in  certain  parts  of  his  work. 
But  this  lack  of  a  fixed  specific  style  spread  likewise  to  other 
forms  of  composition;  Schiller's  drama  became  too  rhe- 
torical; Friedrich  Riickert's  lyric  poetry  too  prosaically 
didactic;  that  of  Annette  von  Droste-Hiilshoff  often  too 
obscure  and  sketchy. 

If,  therefore,  the  struggle  with  the  language  was  fought 
out  successfully  by  modern  German  literature  only  on  the 
battleground  of  the  lyric  (and  even  there,  as  we  have  seen, 
not  without  exceptions),  on  the  other  hand  a  second  con- 
servative force  was  placed  at  the  service  of  the  literary 
development  with  more  uniform  success,  namely  Metrics. 
To  be  sure,  here  again  this  applies  only  to  verse,  for  the 
corresponding  art  of  prose  rhythm  has  been  as  good  as  lost 
to  the  Germans,  in  contrast  to  the  French,  and  almost  more 
so  to  the  English.  In  prose  also  a  conscious  and  systematic 
attempt  to  make  an  artistic  division  into  paragraphs,  chap- 
ters, and  books,  has  only  been  made  in  recent  times,  above 
all  in  and  since  the  writings  of  Nietzsche.  For  as  far  as  the 
treatment  of  language  in  itself  is  concerned,  German  liter- 
ature has  hardly  yet  fully  developed  an  artistic  form; 
writers  still  continue  to  treat  it  far  too  much  as  a  mere 
tool.  But  verse  is  felt  to  be  an  object  for  artistic  molding, 
although  here  too  the  naturalistic  dogmas  of  the  Storm  and 
Stress  writers,  of  the  Romanticists,  Young  Germans  and 
Ultra-Moderns,  have  often  shaken  the  theories  upon  which 
the  artistic  perfection  of  our  poetry  is  based. 

In  this  regard,  likewise,  there  was,  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  a  great  difficulty  to  be  overcome.  Changes  in 
language,  the  effect  of  French  and  Italian  style,  the  influ- 
ence of  music,  had  weakened  the  foundations  of  the  Ger- 
man art  of  verse,  which  were  already  partly  broken  down 
by  mechanical  wear  and  tear.  The  comparatively  simple 
regulation  contrived  by  an  ordinary,  though  clever,  poet, 


XX11 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


Martin  Opitz,  proved  capable  of  enduring  for  centuries ;  a 
connection  was  established  between  the  accent  of  verse  and 
natural  accent,  which  at  the  same  time,  by  means  of  more 
stringent  rules,  created  barriers  against  variable  accent. 
It  was  merely  a  question  of  arranging  the  words  in 
such  fashion  that,  without  forming  too  great  a  contra- 
diction to  the  common-place  order  of  words,  the  way  in 
which  the  accents  were  placed  upon  them  should  result  in 
a  regularly  alternating  rise  and  fall.  On  the  whole,  this 
principle  was  found  to  be  sufficient  until  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  new  poetic  generation  demanded  a  closer  connection 
between  the  poetic  form  and  the  variable  conditions  of  the 
soul;  they  found  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty  by  carrying  a 
rhythmical  mood  through  a  variety  of  metrical  divisions, 
and  thus  came  upon  the  ' '  free  rhythms. ' '  From  whatever 
source  these  were  derived,  either  from  the  misunderstood 
poems  of  Pindar,  from  the  language  of  the  Bible  or  of  the 
enthusiastic  mystics,  or  from  the  poetic  half-prose  of  the 
pastoral  poet  Salomon  Gessner,  they  were,  in  any  case, 
something  new  and  peculiar,  and  their  nature  has  not  been 
grasped  in  the  least  degree  by  the  French  in  their  "  vers 
libres,"  or  at  any  rate  only  since  the  half -Germanic  Flem- 
ing Verhaeren.  They  received  an  interesting  develop- 
ment through  Goethe  and  Heinrich  Heine,  while  most  of 
the  other  poets  who  made  use  of  them,  even  the  greatest 
one,  Novalis,  often  deteriorated  either  into  a  regular,  if 
rhymeless,  versification,  or  into  a  pathetic,  formless  prose. 
Another  method  of  procuring  new  metrical  mediums  of 
expression  for  the  new  wealth  of  emotions  was  to  borrow. 
Klopstock  naturalized  antique  metres,  or  rather  made  them 
familiar  to  the  school  and  to  cultivated  poets,  while  on  the 
other  hand  Heine's  derision  of  August  von  Platen's  set 
form  of  verse  was  welcomed  in  many  circles,  and  even  the 
elevated  poems  of  Friedrich  Holderlin,  which  approached 
the  antique  form,  remained  foreign  to  the  people,  like  the 
experiments  of  Leconte  de  Lisle  in  France;  in  Italy  it 
fared  otherwise  with  Carducci's  Odi  barbare.  Only  one 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

antique  metre  became  German,  in  the  same  sense  that 
Shakespeare  had  become  a  German  poet;  this  was  the 
hexameter,  alone  or  in  connection  with  the  pentameter ;  for 
the  ratio  of  its  parts  to  one  another,  on  which  everything 
depends  in  higher  metrics,  corresponded,  to  some  extent, 
to  that  of  the  German  couplets.  For  the  same  reason  the 
sonnet — not,  however,  without  a  long  and  really  bitter 
fight — was  able  to  win  a  secure  place  in  German  reflective 
lyric  poetry;  indeed  it  had  already  been  once  temporarily 
in  our  possession  during  the  seventeenth  century.  Thus 
two  important  metres  had  been  added  to  German  poetry's 
treasure  house  of  forms:  first,  the  hexameter  for  a 
continuous  narrative  of  a  somewhat  epic  character,  even 
though  without  high  solemnity  —  which  Goethe  alone  once 
aspired  to  in  his  Achilleis  —  and  also  for  shorter  epigram- 
matic or  didactic  observations  in  the  finished  manner  of 
the  distich ;  second,  the  sonnet  for  short  mood-pictures  and 
meditations.  The  era  of  the  German  hexameter  seems, 
however,  to  be  over  at  present,  while,  on  the  contrary,  the 
sonnet,  brought  to  still  higher  perfection  by  Platen,  Moritz 
von  Strachwitz  and  Paul  Heyse,  still  exercises  its  old  power 
of  attraction,  especially  over  poets  with  a  tendency  toward 
Romance  art.  However,  both  hexameter  or  distich  and 
sonnet  have  become,  in  Germany,  pure  literary  forms  of 
composition.  While  in  Italy  the  sonnet  is  still  sung,  we 
are  filled  with  astonishment  that  Brahms  should  have  set 
to  music  a  distich  —  Anacreon.  Numerous  other  forms., 
taken  up  principally  by  the  Romantic  school  and  the 
closely  related  ' '  Exotic  School, ' '  have  remained  mere  liter- 
ary playthings.  For  a  certain  length  of  time  the  ghasel 
seemed  likely  to  be  adopted  as  a  shell  to  contain  scattered 
thoughts,  wittily  arranged,  or  (almost  exclusively  by 
Platen)  also  for  mood-pictures;  but  without  doubt  the  un- 
deservedly great  success  of  Friedrich  von  Bodenstedt's 
Mirza  S chaffy  has  cast  permanent  discredit  on  this  form. 
The  favorite  stanza  of  Schiller  is  only  one  of  the  numerous 
strophe  forms  of  our  narrative  or  reflective  lyric;  it  has 


XXIV 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


never  attained  an  "  ethos  "  peculiar  to  itself.  Incidentally, 
the  French  alexandrines  were  the  fashion  for  a  short  time 
after  Victor  Hugo's  revival  of  them  was  revivified  by  Fer- 
dinand Freiligrath,  and  were  recently  used  with  variations 
by  Carl  Spitteler  (which,  however,  he  denies)  as  a  founda- 
tion for  his  epic  poems.  So,  too,  the  ' l  Old  German  rhymed 
verse  "  after  the  manner  of  Hans  Sachs,  enjoyed  a  short 
popularity ;  and  one  saw  virtuosos  playing  with  the  canzone 
or  the  makame.  On  the  whole,  however,  German  lyric 
poetry  is  rather  made  up  of  simple  formations  in  the  style 
of  the  folk-song,  especially  since  the  important  rhythmic 
transformation  of  this  material  by  Heine  created  new  pos- 
sibilities for  accommodating  the  inner  form  to  new  subject 
matter  without  conspicuously  changing  the  outer  form. 
For  two  great  simplifying  factors  have,  since  Goethe,  been 
predominant  in  protecting  our  lyric  poetry  from  unfruitful 
artificiality;  the  influence  of  the  folk-song  and  the  connec- 
tion with  music  have  kept  it  more  full  of  vital  energy  than 
the  too  literary  lyric  poetry  of  the  French,  and  richer  in 
variety  than  the  too  cultivated  lyric  of  the  English.  Who- 
ever shut  the  door  on  the  influences  spoken  of,  as  did  Franz 
Grillparzer  or  Hebbel,  and,  in  a  different  way,  Annette  von 
Droste-Hiilshoff  or  Heinrich  Leuthold,  at  the  same  time 
nullified  a  good  part  of  his  efficiency. 

The  drama  almost  exclusively  assumed  a  foreign,  though 
kindred,  form  as  a  garb  for  the  more  elevated  styles  of  com- 
position: namely,  the  blank  verse  of  the  English  stage, 
which  Leasing 's  Nathan  the  Wise  had  popularized  and  A. 
W.  Schlegel's  Shakespeare  had  rendered  omnipotent,  and 
which  Schiller  forced  upon  his  successors.  The  Roman- 
ticists, by  playing  unsuccessfully  with  different  forms,  as 
in  Ludwig  Tieck's  Octavianus,  or  Immerman's  Alexis,  or 
by  adopting  pure  antique  or  Spanish  metres,  attempted  in 
vain  to  free  themselves  from  the  restraint  of  form,  the 
great  danger  of  which  consisted  in  its  similarity  to  common- 
place sentence  construction,  so  that  the  verse  ran  the  risk 
either  of  becoming  prosaic,  or  else,  in  trying  forcibly  to 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xxv 

avoid  this,  of  growing  bombastic.  An  escape  was  provided 
by  inserting,  in  moments  of  emotion,  a  metre  of  a  more 
lyrical  quality  into  the  uniform  structure  of  the  usual 
vehicle  of  dramatic  dialogue,  particularly  when  partaking 
of  the  nature  of  a  monologue ;  as  Goethe  did,  for  example, 
in  the  "  Song  of  the  Fates  "  in  Iphigenia,  that  most  metric- 
ally perfect  of  all  German  dramatic  poems,  and  as  Schiller 
continued  to  do  with  increased  boldness  in  the  songs  intro- 
duced into  Mary  Stuart.  Perhaps  the  greatest  perfection 
in  such  use  of  the  principle  of  the  "  free  rhythm  "  as 
applied  to  the  drama,  was  reached  by  Franz  Grillparzer  in 
the  Golden  Fleece,  on  the  model  of  certain  fragments  by 
Goethe,  such  as  the  Prometheus.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
interesting  experiments  in  the  Bride  of  Messina  are  of 
more  importance  for  the  development  of  the  opera  into  a 
work  of  art  complete  in  itself,  than  for  that  of  the  drama. 
In  general,  however,  it  is  to  be  remarked  as  a  peculiarity 
of  modern  German  drama,  that  it  seeks  to  escape  from 
monotony,  which  the  French  classical  theatre  hardly  ever 
succeeded  in  avoiding,  by  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  other 
arts.  Plastic  art  is  often  employed  for  scenic  arrange- 
ment, and  music  to  produce  effects  on  and  behind  the  stage. 
Both  were  made  use  of  by  Schiller;  and  it  was  under  his 
influence  that  they  were  tried  by  Goethe  in  his  later  period 
—  though  we  find  a  remarkable  sporadic  appearance  of 
them  even  as  early  as  Gbtz  and  Klavigo.  The  mastery 
which  Grillparzer  also  attained  in  this  respect  has  been 
striven  after  by  his  fellow  countrymen  with  some  degree 
of  success:  as,  for  example,  by  Ferdinand  Raimund,  by 
Ludwig  Anzengruber,  and  also  by  Friedrich  Halm  and 
Hugo  von  Hofmannsthal. 

Besides  blank  verse,  the  only  other  garb  in  vogue  for  the 
serious  drama  was  prose:  this  was  not  only  used  for 
realistic  pictures  of  conditions  of  a  decidedly  cheerful  type 
(since  Lessing  had  introduced  the  bourgeois  dramas  of 
Diderot  into  Germany),  but  also  for  pathetic  tragedies,  the 
vital  power  of  which  the  lack  of  stylistic  disguising  of 


XXVI 

language  was  supposed  to  increase.  This  was  the  form 
employed  in  the  Storm  and  Stress  drama,  and  therefore 
in  the  prison  scene  of  Faust,  as  also  in  Schiller's  youthful 
dramas,  and  again  we  find  it  adopted  by  Hebbel  and  the 
Young  Germans,  and  by  the  naturalistic  school  under  the 
leadership  of  Ibsen.  The  Old  German  rhymed  verse  found 
only  a  temporary  place  between  these  two  forms.  It  was 
glorified  and  made  almost  sacrosanct  by  having  been  used 
for  the  greatest  of  our  dramas,  Goethe's  Faust;  Wilden- 
bruch  in  particular  tried  to  gain  new  effects  with  it. 
Other  attempts  also  went  hand  in  hand  with  deeper- 
reaching  efforts  to  reconstruct  the  inner  form  of  the  drama ; 
thus  the  tendency  to  a  veiled  polyphony  of  language  in  the 
folk-scenes  of  Christian  Dietrich  Grabbe  and  in  all  the 
plays  of  Heinrich  von  Kleist;  this  in  Hofmannsthal's 
(Edipus  led  to  regular  choruses,  of  quite  a  different  type, 
however,  from  those  of  the  Bride  of  Messina.  Gerhart 
Hauptmann's  Weavers  and  Florian  Geyer  may  be  con- 
sidered the  culminating  points  of  this  movement,  in  spite 
of  their  apparently  entirely  prosaic  form. 

Modern  German  drama,  which  in  its  peculiar  style  is  still 
largely  unappreciated  because  it  has  always  been  measured 
by  its  real  or  supposed  models,  is,  together  with  the  free- 
rhythm  lyric,  the  greatest  gift  bestowed  upon  the  treasure 
of  forms  of  the  world-literature  by  the  literature  of  Ger- 
many which  has  so  often  played  the  part  of  recipient. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  speaking  of  the  development  of 
narrative  prose,  we  should  remember  what  we  have  already 
accomplished  in  that  line.  The  "  Novelle  "  alone  has  at- 
tained a  fixed  form,  as  a  not  too  voluminous  account  of  a 
remarkable  occurrence.  It  is  formally  regulated  in  advance 
by  the  absolute  domination  of  a  decisive  incident — as,  for 
example,  the  outbreak  of  a  concealed  love  in  Heyse,  or  the 
moment  of  farewell  in  Theodor  Storm.  All  previous  inci- 
dents are  required  to  assist  in  working  up  to  this  climax ; 
all  later  ones  are  introduced  merely  to  allow  its  echo  to 
die  away.  In  this  austerity  of  concentration  the  German 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


XXVll 


"  Novelle,"  the  one  rigidly  artistic  form  of  German  prose, 
is  related  to  the  "  Short  Story  "  which  has  been  so  eagerly 
heralded  in  recent  times,  especially  by  America,  The 
"Novelle"  differs,  however,  from  this  form  of  literary 
composition,  which  Maupassant  cultivated  with  the  most 
masterly  and  unrivaled  success,  by  its  subordination  to  a 
climax ;  whereas  the  Short  Story,  in  reality,  is  usually  a  con- 
densed novel,  that  is  to  say,  the  history  of  a  development 
concentrated  in  a  few  incidents.  Our  literature  also  pos- 
sesses such  short  "  sketches,"  but  the  love  of  psychological 
detail  in  the  development  of  the  plot  nearly  always  results 
in  the  greater  diffuseness  of  the  novel.  The  real '  *  Novelle  ' ' 
is,  however,  at  least  as  typical  of  the  Germans  as  the  Short 
Story  is  of  the  Americans,  and  in  no  other  form  of  literary 
composition  has  Germany  produced  so  many  masters  as 
in  this  —  and  in  the  lyric.  For  the  latter  is  closely  related 
to  the  German  ' '  Novelle  ' '  because  it  loves  to  invest  the 
way  to  and  from  the  culminating  point  with  the  charm  pro- 
duced by  a  certain  mood,  as  the  half-German  Bret  Harte 
loves  to  do  in  similar  artistic  studies,  but  the  Russian 
Tschechow  never  indulges  himself  in,  and  the  Frenchman 
Maupassant  but  seldom.  On  this  account  our  best  writers 
of ' '  Novellen  ' '  have  also  been,  almost  without  excep- 
tion, eminent  lyric  poets ;  such  were  Goethe,  Tieck,  Eichen- 
dorff,  Morike,  Keller,  Heyse,  Theodor  Storm  and  C.  F. 
Meyer;  whereas,  in  the  case  of  Marie  von  Ebner-Eschen- 
bach,  who  otherwise  would  form  an  exception,  even  what 
appears  to  be  a  "  Novelle  "  is  in  reality  a  "  small  novel." 
The  novel,  on  the  contrary,  still  enjoys  in  Germany  the 
dangerous  privilege  of  formlessness.  In  its  language  it 
varies  from  the  vague  lyric  of  romantic  composition  to  the 
bureaucratic  sobriety  of  mechanically-compiled  studies  of 
real  life.  In  its  outline,  in  the  rhythm  of  its  construction, 
in  the  division  of  its  parts  and  the  way  in  which  they  are 
brought  into  relief,  it  has,  in  spite  of  masterly  individual 
performances,  never  attained  a  specific  literary  form,  such 


xxviii  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

as  has  long  been  possessed  by  the  English  and  the  French 
novels.  Likewise  the  inclination,  sanctioned  by  Goethe  and 
the  Romantic  school,  to  interpolate  specimens  of  the  least 
formed  half -literary  genres  —  namely,  letters  and  diaries 
—  worked  against  the  adoption  of  a  fixed  form,  notwith- 
standing that  this  expedient  augmented  the  great  —  often 
indeed  too  great — inner  richness  of  the  German  novel. 
Thus  the  German  novel,  as  well  as  the  so  justly  favorite 
form  of  letters  and  diaries,  is  of  infinitely  more  importance 
as  a  human  or  contemporary  "  document  "  than  as  a  direct 
work  of  art.  We  have,  however,  already  drawn  attention 
to  the  fact  that  the  never-failing  efforts  to  clothe  the  novel 
in  a  more  esthetically  pure  form  have,  in  our  own  day, 
happily  increased. 

The  traditional  material  of  literary  compositions  is,  how- 
ever, also  a  conservative  power,  just  as  are  language  and 
form.  The  stock  of  dominating  motives  naturally  under- 
goes just  as  many  transformations  as  language  or  metrics ; 
but,  in  both  cases,  what  already  exists  has  a  determining 
influence  on  everything  new,  often  going  so  far  as  to  sup- 
press the  latter  entirely.  Customary  themes  preferably 
claim  the  interest  of  the  reader ;  as,  for  example,  in  the  age 
of  religious  pictures  it  would  have  been  exceedingly  hard 
to  procure  an  order  for  a  purely  worldly  painting.  The 
artists  themselves  unconsciously  glide  into  the  usual  path, 
and  what  was  intended  to  be  a  world-poem  flows  off  into 
the  convenient  worn  channel  of  the  love-story.  But  the 
vivifying  and  deepening  power  of  the  Germanic  spirit  has 
here,  more  than  in  any  other  domain,  destroyed  the  oppos- 
ing force  of  inertia. 

The  oldest  poetry  is  confined  to  such  subjects  as  are  of 
universal  interest  —  one  could  also  say  of  universal  impor- 
tance. War  and  the  harvest,  the  festivals  of  the  gods  and 
the  destinies  of  the  tribe,  are  the  subjects  of  song.  These 
things  retain  their  traditional  interest  even  where  a  healthy 
communal  life  no  longer  exists.  Epochs  which  are  abso- 
lutely wanting  in  political  understanding  still  cultivate  the 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


XXIX 


glory  of  Brutus  in  an  epic  or  dramatic  form ;  or  those  ages 
which  can  scarcely  lay  claim  to  a  living  religious  interest 
still  join  in  choruses  in  honor  of  Apollo  or  in  honor  of  the 
Christian  religion.  Every  literature  carries  with  it  a  large 
and  respectable  ballast  of  sensations  that  are  no  longer 
felt,  of  objects  that  are  no  longer  seen,  culminating  in  the 
spring-songs  of  poets  confined  to  their  room,  and  the  wine- 
songs  of  the  water-drinkers.  A  stagnating  literature,  as 
that  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  essentially,  always  has 
an  especially  large  amount  of  such  rubbish.  Poems  com- 
posed for  certain  occasions,  in  the  worst  sense  —  that  is  to 
say,  poems  of  congratulation  and  condolence  written  for 
money,  trivial  reflections  and  mechanical  devotion,  occupy 
an  alarmingly  large  space  in  the  lyric  of  this  period. 
Drama  is  entirely  confined,  and  the  novel  for  the  greater 
part,  to  the  dressing  up  in  adopted  forms  of  didactic  sub- 
ject matter  of  the  most  general  type.  Men  of  individuality 
are,  however,  not  altogether  lacking :  such  were  lyric  poets 
like  Andreas  Gryphius  and  Paul  Fleming,  gnomologists 
like  Johann  Scheffler,  and  narrators  like  J.  J.  Christoffel 
von  Grimmelshausen ;  but  even  with  them  the  personal  note 
does  not  dare  to  sound  openly.  The  first  to  give  free 
expression  again  to  intimate  sensations  is  Christian  Giin- 
ther,  and  he  arouses  thereby  contradiction,  together  with 
admiration.  The  court  poets  about  the  year  1700  work 
more  in  a  negative  way,  i.  e.,  by  that  which  they  did  not 
express  in  their  verses.  The  great  merit  of  the  pre- 
classical  writers  is  to  have  created  space,  on  the  one  hand, 
for  personal  sensations,  and,  on  the  other,  for  the  great 
new  thoughts  of  the  age.  Hagedorn,  with  the  elegant  friv- 
olity of  the  man  of  the  world,  continued  the  necessary 
sifting  of  antiquated  material;  Albrecht  von  Haller,  with 
the  deep  seriousness  of  the  great  student  of  nature,  once 
more  squarely  faced  the  eternal  problems.  But  the  entire 
wealth  of  inner  experience,  in  its  most  exclusively  indi- 
vidual sense,  was  first  revealed,  not  only  to  the  literature 
of  Germany  but  to  modern  literature  in  general,  by  Klop- 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

stock.  Along  this  path  Goethe  pressed  forward  gloriously, 
his  whole  poetic  work  presenting,  according  to  his  own 
testimony,  a  single  great  confession.  From  Haller,  on  the 
contrary,  proceeds  the  effort  to  develop  a  poetical  style 
that  would  enable  individuals  to  share  in  the  great  thoughts 
of  the  age.  Lessing  strides  onward  from  Minna  von  Barn- 
helm  —  the  first  drama  of  contemporary  history  since  the 
Persians  of  ^Eschylus  —  to  Nathan  the  Wise,  herein  fol- 
lowing the  lead  of  the  "  literature  with  a  distinct  purpose  " 
(Tendenz-Dichtung)  of  France,  and  especially  of  Voltaire, 
otherwise  antipathetic  to  Lessing.  Lessing 's  great  dra- 
matic heir  is  Schiller,  whose  tradition  is  in  turn  carried  on 
by  Kleist,  the  latter  allowing  his  personality  to  pene- 
trate the  subject  matter  far  more  even  than  either  of  his 
predecessors. 

But  the  utmost  was  done  by  Goethe,  when  in  Werther 
and  Gotzf  in  Prometheus  or  Satyros,  but  above  all  event- 
ually in  Faust,  he  lived  through  in  advance  —  or,  as  he 
himself  said,  he  "  anticipated  "  (vorfuhlte)  — the  peculiar 
experience  of  the  age  with  such  intensity  that,  in  the  work 
which  resulted,  the  individual  experience  became  the  direct 
experience  of  the  whole  generation. 

Out  of  the  "  reverence  for  nature  "  (Naturfrommigkeit) 
with  which  he  contemplated  all  created  things  —  from  ' '  the 
Cedar  of  Lebanon  to  the  hyssop  which  grows  on  the  wall," 
from  the  mighty  movement  of  the  stream  in  Mahomet  to 
the  bit  of  cheese  that  is  weighed  by  the  old  woman  in  Die 
Geschwister — out  of  all  comes  a  widening  of  the  poetic 
horizon,  the  like  of  which  had  never  before  been  seen  in 
any  age.  The  Romanticists  in  reality  only  made  a  watch- 
word out  of  this  practice  of  Goethe's  when  they  demanded 
' '  progressive  universal  poetry, ' '  by  which  they  meant  that 
the  poet  should  live  through  the  whole  experience  of  crea- 
tion in  his  own  person.  In  demanding  this,  they — as  the 
aging  Goethe  had  himself  done  —  formed  too  narrow  a 
conception  of  the  personal,  and  rejected  too  absolutely  the 
problems  of  politics  and  of  science,  so  that  once  more  a 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


XXXI 


narrowing  process  ensued.  But  even  in  their  own  ranks 
this  tendency  was  offset  by  the  exigency  of  the  times ;  after 
the  wars  of  liberation,  political  and  in  general,  poetry 
written  with  a  purpose  was  actually  in  the  ascendency. 
The  poetry  of  the  mood,  like  that  of  a  Morike,  remained 
for  a  long  time  almost  unknown  on  account  of  its  strictly 
intimate  character.  In  the  success  of  Ernst  von  Wilden- 
bruch  we  see  provisionally  the  last  victory  of  this  sort  of 
literature  —  which  directly  proclaims  what  is  worth  striv- 
ing for  —  at  least  in  its  loftier  form.  For  the  contemporary 
novel  constantly  takes  for  its  subject  the  emancipation  of 
woman,  or  the  fight  for  culture,  the  protection  of  the  Ost- 
Mark,  or  the  fight  against  alcohol. 

On  the  other  hand  the  Romantic  school  has  also  broad- 
ened the  realm  of  poetic  material  in  a  very  important  man- 
ner, by  adding  to  it  the  provinces  of  the  phantastic,  the 
visionary,  the  fairy-like,  and  by  giving  to  the  symbolical 
an  undreamed-of  expansion. 

On  the  whole,  modern  German  literature  has  probably 
a  richer  field  from  which  to  choose  her  material  than  any 
other  literature  can  boast  of.  In  fact  it  is  perhaps  too 
variegated,  and  thus,  because  of  the  richness  and  origi- 
nality of  its  subject  matter,  allows  too  much  latitude  to 
genius.  One  field  only  in  poetry,  considered  from  the 
viewpoint  of  real  art,  is  almost  uncultivated.  All  the 
efforts  and  all  the  attempts  on  the  part  of  both  Catholics 
and  Protestants  have  not  succeeded  in  producing  religious 
poems  of  any  degree  of  importance  since  Annette  von 
Droste-Hiilshoff  ceased  to  sing;  whereas,  on  the  other  hand, 
poetry  that  is  hostile  to  the  church  has  brought  to  maturity 
some  great  productions,  not  only  in  Anzengruber  or  Karl 
Schoenherr,  in  Friedrich  Theodor  Vischer,  in  Storm,  and 
Keller,  but,  above  all,  in  Nietzsche.  A  turn  in  the  tide  that 
seems  just  now  to  be  taking  place  is  exemplified  in  the 
important  epic  poems  of  Enrica  von  Handel-MazzettL 

Finally,  as  the  last  and,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  strongest, 
pillar  of  permanency  we  will  name  the  public.  It  is  just 


XXXU 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


as  much  a  product  as  a  contributing  factor  of  literature; 
in  both  respects,  however,  preeminently  important  as  a 
conservative  force.  The  predominant  and  enduring  tend- 
encies, forms,  and  subjects  are  naturally  chiefly  conducive 
to  the  formation  of  a  circle  of  "  fixed  subscribers  "  among 
the  crowd  of  possible  patrons.  These  subscribers,  on  their 
part,  of  course  insist  upon  the  preservation  of  those  tend- 
encies, forms,  and  subjects  by  which  they  are  attracted. 
In  the  same  way  that,  in  general,  a  large  "  reading  world," 
or  a  regular  public  for  a  theatre,  or  a  solid  community  of 
devotees  for  each  of  the  different  species  of  song  (as  for 
example,  the  religious  song,  the  folk-song,  the  student's 
song)  is  organized,  so  do  important  personalities  call  into 
being  a  special  following  of  admirers,  such  as  the  partisans 
of  Hebbel,  the  Wagnerians,  and  the  adherents  of  Stefan 
George.  But  these  narrow  circles  are  often  much  more 
intolerant  of  every  effort  on  the  part  of  the  master  to 
depart  from  the  program  he  has  sworn  to,  than  are 
outsiders.  The  history  of  the  German  public,  unlike  that 
of  the  English  or  French,  is  less  a  church-history  than  a 
sect-history.  Schiller  alone  succeeded  in  becoming  the 
national  poet  of  his  people  —  and  he  had  his  merits  as  well 
as  his  weaknesses  to  thank  for  it.  Lessing  is  the  one  who 
comes  next  to  him,  whereas  Goethe  really  reached  the 
masses  in  only  a  few  of  his  compositions.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  made  a  stronger  impression  upon,  and  gave  more 
happiness  to,  the  intellectual  classes  than  any  of  our  poets 
since  Klopstock.  After  him,  only  poets  of  a  decidedly 
esoteric  character,  such  as  Stefan  George  or  Friedrich 
Nietzsche,  have  had  such  a  profound  effect  or  one  so  capa- 
ble of  stirring  the  remoter  depths  of  the  soul.  Even  with 
Jean  Paul  the  impression  produced  was  more  superficial. 
Latterly,  however,  periodicals,  lecture-courses  and  clubs 
have  replaced  the  "  caucus " — which  was  formerly 
held  by  the  most  influential  readers  and  hearers  of  the 
literary  fraternities.  This  change  has  gone  so  far  that  the 
intimacy  of  the  relations  between  a  poet  and  his  admirers, 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

which  was  still  possible  in  the  early  days  of  Hauptmann, 
Hofmannsthal,  George,  and  Dehmel,  now  actually  exists 
only  for  those  poets  who  have  not  attained  any  special 
renown,  such  as  Alfred  Mombert,  or,  perhaps,  we  might 
also  include  Spitteler.  An  amalgamation  of  the  different 
groups,  which  in  Germany  are  wont  to  prove  their  love  for 
their  patron  by  combatting  his  supposed  or  real  opponents 
rather  than  by  actively  fostering  his  artistic  tendencies, 
might  have  produced  a  strong  and  effective  reading  public. 
But  sooner  can  a  stenographer  of  the  Stolze  school  agree 
with  one  of  the  Gabelsberger  system  than  can  a  votary  of 
Dehmel  dare  to  recognize  the  greatness  in  George,  an 
admirer  of  Schnitzler  see  the  importance  of  Herbert  Eulen- 
berg,  or  a  friend  of  Gustav  Frenssen  acknowledge  the 
power  of  Ricarda  Huch.  Our  public,  by  its  separatist  taste 
and  the  unduly  emphasized  obstinacy  of  its  antipathies, 
will  continue  for  a  long  time  still  to  hinder  that  unity, 
which,  rising  above  even  a  just  recognition  of  differences, 
is  the  only  element  which  makes  a  great  literature  possible. 
Of  course  the  critics  are  to  be  reckoned  among  the  public, 
whether  we  consider  criticism  by  professional  reviewers  or 
the  more  discriminating  criticism  of  theatre  directors,  com- 
posers, etc. 

In  all  the  foregoing  discussion  of  the  prevailingly  con- 
servative forces  in  the  development  of  literature  we  have 
seen  that  none  of  these  forces  has  a  completely  restraining 
effect.  Language  always  undergoes  a  certain  change,  even 
in  the  most  benumbed  periods,  since  it  is  obliged  to  suit 
itself  to  the  new  demands  of  trade,  of  society,  even  of  litera- 
ture itself.  We  also  saw  that  form  and  material  were  not  an 
inert  mass,  but  were  in  continual,  though  often  slow,  move- 
ment. Finally,  though  the  public  itself  always  demands 
essentially  the  same  thing,  it  has,  nevertheless,  new  varia- 
tions which  are  forced  upon  it  by  its  avidity  for  new  sub- 
jects ;  it  also  demands,  when  it  has  enjoyed  a  higher  artistic 
education  (as  in  the  days  of  the  Classical  and  Romantic 
writers),  perfection  of  technique  and  increase  in  specific- 
ally artistic  values. 


xxxiv  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

Between  the  abiding  and  the  progressive,  between  the 
conservative  and  revolutionary  tendencies,  the  typical 
development  of  the  individual  himself  takes  its  place  as  a 
natural  intermediary  factor.  No  literary  "  generation  ' : 
is  composed  of  men  actually  of  the  same  age.  Beside  the 
quite  young  who  are  merely  panting  to  express  themselves, 
stand  the  mature  who  exercise  an  esthetic  discernment, 
even  as  regards  their  own  peculiar  experience;  finally, 
there  are  also  the  older  men  who  have  already  said  their 
say.  In  the  same  way  every  public  is  made  up  of  people  of 
all  ages.  These  make  different  demands  of  their  poets; 
youth  wishes  to  conquer,  manhood  to  fortify,  old  age 
merely  not  to  lose.  It  is  self-evident  that  points  of  con- 
formity are  to  be  found  between  the  most  widely  differing 
fields :  as,  for  example,  conservative  tendencies  are  present 
in  the  camp  of  the  destroyers,  revolutionary  tendencies  in 
that  of  the  conservatives.  In  other  words,  in  every  com- 
munity of  men,  no  matter  of  what  description,  who  are 
united  by  any  kind  of  higher  interest,  new  ideals  grow  up 
out  of  this  very  community  of  interest.  Men  who  happen 
to  be  thrown  together  mutually  cause  one  another's  de- 
mands to  increase ;  those  who  work  in  common  try  to  outdo 
one  another.  Out  of  their  midst  personalities  arise,  who, 
brought  up  with  the  loftiest  ideals,  or  often  spurred  on  by 
the  supineness  of  the  public,  with  passionate  earnestness 
make  what  merely  filled  up  the  leisure  hours  of  others  the 
sole  purpose  of  their  lives.  Thus,  in  Germany  above  all, 
the  new  ideal  has  been  born  again  and  again,  constituting 
the  strongest  motive  power  which  exists,  besides  the  per- 
sonality of  genius  itself. 

Of  the  greatest  importance,  to  begin  with,  is  the  ideal  of 
a  national  literature  itself.  Gottsched  was  the  first  in  Ger- 
many, if  not  to  apprehend  it,  at  least  to  ponder  it  and  to 
advocate  it  with  persistent  zeal.  The  literature  of  antiquity 
and  the  literature  of  France  offered  types  of  fixed  national 
units.  The  affinity  between  the  two  as  national  units  had 
been  pointed  out  in  France  and  England  by  means  of  the 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xxxv 

celebrated  "  Combat  of  the  ancients  and  moderns,"  which 
also  first  gave  living  writers  sufficient  courage  to  think  of 
comparing  modern  art  with  ancient. 

Gottsched  presented  a  program  which  he  systemat- 
ically strove  to  carry  out,  and  in  which  one  of  the  most 
important  places  is  given  to  the  building  up  of  an  artistic 
theatre,  after  the  model  of  the  great  civilized  nations.  He 
surely  had  as  much  right  to  show  some  intolerance  toward 
the  harlequin  and  the  popular  stage  as  Lessing  (who  sup- 
planted him  while  continuing  his  work)  had  to  indulge  in 
a  like  prejudice  against  the  classical  theatre  of  the  French. 
Lessing,  however,  as  we  have  already  seen,  goes  at  the 
same  time  more  deeply  into  the  matter  by  proposing  not 
only  a  systematic  but  also  an  organic  construction  of  the 
separate  genres,  and  Herder  took  the  last  step  when  he 
demanded  an  autochthonous  growth — that  is  to  say,  a  devel- 
opment of  art  out  of  the  inner  necessity  of  personalities 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  nationalities  on  the  other.  To  be 
sure,  the  great  poets  who  now  appeared  were  not  included 
in  the  program,  and  Gottsched  did  not  appreciate  Haller, 
nor  did  Lessing  form  a  correct  estimate  of  Goethe,  or 
Herder  of  Schiller.  There  is,  however,  a  mysterious  con- 
nection between  the  aspirations  of  the  nation  and  the 
appearance  of  genius. 

Klopstock  probably  felt  most  directly  what  was  wanting 
in  the  literature  of  his  people,  as  he  was  also  the  most 
burning  patriot  of  all  our  classical  writers;  and  at  the 
same  time,  as  is  proved  by  the  Republic  of  Letters,  his 
strange  treatise  on  the  art  of  poetry,  he  was  the  one  among 
them  who  bore  the  most  resemblance  to  the  literary  pedant 
of  the  old  days.  He  is,  therefore,  continually  occupied 
with  the  comparison  between  German  and  foreign  art,  lan- 
guage, and  literature,  which  endeavor  was  continued  later 
on  and  with  other  methods  by  A.  W.  Schlegel.  But  Herder 
also,  in  his  comparison  of  the  native  art  of  Germany  with 
the  art  of  antiquity,  of  the  Orient  and  of  England,  pro- 
duced effective  results;  no  less  did  Lessing,  although  the 


XXXVI 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


latter  seeks  to  learn  from  the  faults  of  his  neighbors  rather 
than  from  their  excellencies.  Goethe's  criticism  is  dom- 
inated to  such  a  degree  by  his  absorption  in  the  antique, 
and  also  in  French  and  English  general  literature,  that  he 
has  no  understanding  of  national  peculiarities  when  they 
do  not  conform  to  typical  literary  phenomena,  as  Uhland's 
lyric  and  Kleist's  drama  —  two  literary  phenomena  which 
we,  nowadays,  consider  eminently  national.  The  Romantic 
school  was  the  first  to  try  to  place  the  conception  of 
national  literature  as  a  whole  on  an  autochthonous  basis, 
and  the  scientific  speculation  to  which  Romanticism  gave 
rise,  has,  since  the  Brothers  Grimm,  also  resulted  in  serv- 
iceable rules  gained  from  the  increasingly  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  language,  of  national  development,  and  of  social 
conditions.  This  new  point  of  view  reaches  its  climax  in 
the  attempts  of  Karl  Miillenhoff  and  Wilhelm  Scherer  to 
trace  the  native  literary  development  directly  back  to  the 
nature  and  destiny  of  the  German  nation.  But  even  as 
that  proved  scientifically  unsuccessful,  so  likewise  it  was 
not  feasible  practically  to  establish  a  poetry  confined  to 
native  materials,  forms,  and  opinions.  In  vain  did  Tieck 
try  to  play  off  the  youthful  Goethe,  as  the  only  national 
one,  against  the  Goethe  of  the  Weimar  period,  which 
attempt  many  after  him  have  repeated;  or  again,  it  was 
proposed  to  strike  Heine  out  of  the  history  of  our  literature 
as  un-German — the  last  two  literary  events  of  European 
significance  in  Germany,  according  to  Nietzsche.  On  the 
contrary,  a  comparison  of  German  literature  with  those 
of  foreign  nations  was  not  only  necessary  but  also  fruitful, 
as  a  certain  exhaustion  had  set  in,  which  lent  an  aftermath 
character  to  the  leaders  of  the  German  "  intellectual 
poetry  "  (Bildungs-Poesie)  of  that  time.  It  was  necessary 
once  again  to  compare  our  technique,  our  relationship 
between  the  poet  and  the  people,  our  participation  in  all 
the  various  literary  genres  and  problems,  with  the  cor- 
responding phenomena  in  the  countries  of  Zola,  Bjornson, 
Tolstoy,  Ibsen,  and  Strindberg. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


XXXVLL 


This,  now,  leads  up  to  another  question,  to  that  concern- 
ing poetic  ideals,  and  not  only  poetry  in  itself;  the  poet 
also  becomes  the  object  of  interest  and  expectation.  Every 
age  embodies  a  different  ideal,  by  which  in  all  instances 
the  already  existing  type  and  the  loftier  hopes  of  youth 
are  welded  into  one — if  we  may  be  allowed  so  to  express  it. 
Antiquity  asked  that  the  poet  should  fill  the  heart  with 
gladness ;  the  Middle  Ages  desired  edification  with  a  spirit- 
ual or  a  worldly  coloring;  the  first  centuries  of  modern 
times  applied  to  him  for  instruction.  This  last  ideal  was 
still  in  vogue  at  the  beginning  of  modern  German  literature. 
But  gradually  the  conception  of  "instruction"  altered. 
The  poet  of  the  Germanic  nations  had  now  to  be  one  who 
could  interpret  the  heart.  He  should  no  longer  be  the 
medium  for  conveying  those  matters  which  the  didactic 
novel  and  the  edifying  lyric  had  treated — things  valuable 
where  knowledge  of  the  world  and  human  nature,  inter- 
course and  felicity  are  concerned — but  he  must  become  a 
seer  again,  an  announcer  of  mysterious  wisdom.  "  What- 
ever, unknown  or  unminded  by  others,  wanders  by  night 
through  the  labyrinth  of  the  heart ' ' —  that  he  must  transmit 
to  the  hearer;  he  must  allow  the  listener  to  share  with 
him  the  gift  of  '  *  being  able  to  give  expression  to  his  suffer- 
ing." Thus  the  chief  task  of  the  modern  poet  became 
"  the  reproduction  of  the  objective  world  through  the  sub- 
jective, ' '  consequently  ' '  experience. '  '  Real  events,  objects, 
manifestations  must  pass  through  a  human  soul  in  order 
to  gain  poetic  significance,  and  upon  the  significance 
of  the  receiving  soul,  not  upon  the  "poetic"  or  "  un- 
poetic  "  nature  of  the  subject  itself,  depends  the  poetic 
significance. 

With  this  new  conception,  however,  new  dangers  are  con- 
nected. Near  at  hand  lies  the  fear  of  a  too  open  declara- 
tion of  the  most  intimate  feelings.  In  many  old-style  poets 
of  modern  times,  in  Holderlin,  in  Kleist,  Grillparzer,  and 
Annette  von  Droste-Hiilshoff  this  fear  assumes  the  char- 
acter of  ethical  aversion  to  baring  their  feelings  in  public. 


xxxviii  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

But  near,  too,  lies  the  hunt  after  interesting  experiences  — 
the  need  to  "  experience  something  "  at  any  price — which 
marred  the  life  of  a  romantic  poet  of  Brentano's  talents, 
and  also  affected  the  conduct  of  the  realist  Grabbe.  A  new 
responsibility  was  placed  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  Ger- 
man poet,  which  rested  heavily  on  men  like  Otto  Ludwig, 
and  on  account  of  which  writers  like  Hebbel  or  Richard 
Wagner  thought  themselves  justified  in  claiming  the  royal 
privileges  of  the  favorites  of  the  gods. 

An  entirely  new  method  of  poetic  study  began,  which 
perhaps  originated  with  Heinrich  von  Kleist :  a  passionate 
endeavor  to  place  the  whole  of  life  at  the  service  of  observa- 
tion or  to  spend  it  in  the  study  of  technique.  The  conse- 
quence was  not  seldom  a  nervous  derangement  of  the  whole 
apparatus  of  the  soul,  just  at  the  moment  when  it  should 
have  been  ready  for  its  greatest  performances,  as  in  the 
case  of  Nikolaus  Lenau;  however,  it  also  frequently  re- 
sulted in  an  endlessly  increased  receptivity  for  every 
experience,  as  in  the  case  of  Bettina  von  Arnim,  Heine,  or 
Annette  von  Droste,  and  the  most  recent  writers. 

The  infinitely  difficult  task  of  the  modern  poet  is  made 
still  harder  by  the  fact  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  he, 
happily,  seldom  succeeds  in  transforming  himself  into,  one 
would  like  to  say,  an  artistically  working  apparatus,  such 
as  Ibsen  very  nearly  became ;  not,  however,  without  deplor- 
ing the  fact  at  the  close  of  his  life.  The  German  poet  in 
particular  has  too  strong  a  lyrical  inheritance  not  to  reecho 
the  impressions  directly  received  by  his  heart.  The  strug- 
gle between  the  demands  of  a  purely  artistic  presentation 
of  reality,  i.  e.,  one  governed  exclusively  by  esthetic  rules, 
and  its  sympathetic  rendering,  constitutes  the  poetic 
tragedy  of  most  of  our  "naturalistic  writers,"  and 
especially  of  the  most  important  one  among  them,  Gerhart 
Hauptmann.  But  from  this  general  ideal  of  the  poet,  who 
only  through  his  own  experience  will  give  to  reality  a  true 
existence  and  the  possibility  of  permanence,  there  follows 
a  straining  after  technical  requirements  such  as  was  for- 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


XXXIX 


merly  almost  unknown.  This  results  in  an  effort  in  Germany 
all  the  more  strenuous  in  proportion  to  the  former  slack- 
ness regarding  questions  of  artistic  form.  The  peculiari- 
ties of  the  different  literary  genres  are  heeded  with  a 
severity  such  as  has  been  practised  before  only  in  antiquity 
or  perhaps  by  the  French.  Poets  like  Detlev  von  Lilien- 
cron,  who  formerly  had  appeared  as  advocates  of  poetical 
frivolity,  now  chafed  over  banal  aids  for  rhyming,  as  once 
Alfred  de  Musset  had  done.  Friedrich  Spielhagen,  the 
brothers  Heinrich  and  Thomas  Mann,  and  Jacob  Wasser- 
mann  are  seen  to  busy  themselves  with  the  technical  ques- 
tions pertaining  to  the  prose-epic,  no  longer  in  a  merely 
esthetical  and  easy-going  fashion,  but  as  though  they  were 
working  out  questions  vital  to  existence ;  and  truly  it  is  bit- 
ter earnest  with  them  where  their  art  is  concerned.  Often, 
as  in  painting,  technique  becomes  the  principal  object,  and 
the  young  naturalism  of  Arno  Holz  and  Johannes  Schlaf 
has  in  all  seriousness  raised  technique  to  a  dogma,  without, 
however,  in  the  long  run  being  able  to  get  the  upper  hand 
of  the  German  need  of  establishing  intimate  relations  with 
the  subject  of  the  art. 

We  must,  however,  at  this  point  again  remind  ourselves 
that  the  question  is  not  one  of  abstract  *  *  poets  ' '  but  one 
of  a  large  number  of  living  men  who,  happily,  differ  widely 
from  one  another.  Above  all,  when  considering  them  we 
must  think  of  the  typical  development  of  the  generations. 
Those  for  whom  patriotic  interests,  at  least  in  a  direct 
sense,  seemed  to  have  little  meaning,  were  always  followed 
by  generations  patriotically  inspired.  The  Germany  of 
today  hides,  under  the  self -deluding  appearance  of  a  con- 
finement to  purely  esthetic  problems,  a  predominating  and 
lively  joy  in  the  growth  of  the  Fatherland,  and  naturally 
also  in  its  mental  broadening.  To  have  given  the  strongest 
expression  to  this  joy  constitutes  the  historical  signifi- 
cance of  Gustav  Frenssen,  just  as  solicitude  for  its  future 
inspired  the  muse  of  Wilhelm  von  Polenz. 

The    preference    shown    to    individual   literary   genres 


xl  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

changes  in  an  almost  regular  order  of  sequence  —  the  Swiss 
Bovet  has  even  tried  recently  to  lay  down  a  regular  law 
of  alternation.  Especially  is  the  theatre  from  time  to  time 
abused  for  being  a  destructive  negation  of  art,  in  just  as 
lively  a  fashion  as  it  is  declared  at  other  times  to  be  the 
sole  realization  of  the  artistic  ideal.  As  to  prevailing  tem- 
peraments, a  preferably  pathetic  tone  —  as,  for  example, 
in  the  epoch  of  Freytag,  Geibel,  Treitschke  —  alternates 
with  a  sceptically  satiric  one  —  as  in  Fontane  who  (like 
so  many  writers,  in  Germany  especially)  did  not  belong  to 
his  own  generation  nor  even  to  the  immediately  succeeding 
one,  but  to  the  next  after  that!  With  these  are  asso- 
ciated preferences  for  verse  or  prose;  for  idealism  or 
realism  and  naturalism;  a  falling  away  from  philosophy 
or  an  inclination  to  introduce  it  into  poetry ;  and  numerous 
other  disguises  for  those  antagonistic  principles,  to  which 
Kuno  Francke  in  a  general  survey  of  our  literature  has 
sought  to  trace  back  its  different  phases. 

We  have  now  said  about  all  that,  in  our  opinion,  seems 
necessary  for  a  general  introduction  to  modern  German 
literature.  For  the  rest,  it  is  of  course  quite  obvious  that 
it  is  German  —  and  that  it  is  a  li terature.  That  it  ia  Ger- 
man, is  precisely  why  it  is  not  exclusively  German: 
for  in  every  epoch  has  it  not  been  proclaimed  in  accents 
of  praise  or  of  blame,  until  we  are  almost  tired  of  hearing 
it,  that  the  inclination  to  take  up  and  appropriate  foreign 
possessions  is  peculiar  to  the  German  nation  —  and  to  the 
Germanic  spirit  in  general?  Thus  we  possess  special 
presentations  of  German  literature  considered  from  the 
standpoint  of  its  antique  elements,  and  also  from  that  of 
its  Christian  elements,  and  we  could  in  the  same  way 
present  theses  which  would  show  its  development  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  Romance  or  of  the  English  influence. 
And  yet  latterly  an  exactly  contrary  attempt  has  been 
made  —  in  a  spirited,  if  somewhat  arbitrary  book  by  Nad- 
ler,  which  consists  in  trying  to  build  up  the  history  of 
German  literature  entirely  upon  the  peculiarities  of  the 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xli 

different  tribes  and  provinces.  For  the  essence  of  the 
German,  nay,  even  of  the  Swabian,  or  Bavarian,  or  North 
German,  or  Austrian  individuality,  is  in  the  long  run  nour- 
ished rather  than  extinguished  by  all  foreign  influences. 
In  spite  of  this,  it  is  of  course  important  in  the  considera- 
tion of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries,  to  observe 
how  the  French  pattern  that  is  at  first  followed  almost 
with  the  unquestioned  obedience  accorded  to  a  fixed  ethical 
model,  is  confronted  by  the  English,  which  brings  about  the 
celebrated  —  and  probably  overrated — struggle  between 
Gottsched  and  the  Swiss  School.  We  should  also  notice  pre- 
cisely how  the  tendency  of  British  literature  toward  origi- 
nality—  in  which  the  insular  peculiarities  were  strongly 
emphasized  —  served  to  increase  the  self-reliance  of  Ger- 
man literature;  how  a  new  movement  in  the  style  of  the 
antique  was  cultivated  by  the  classical  writers;  and  how 
the  Romantic  School  favored  medieval-Christian  tendencies 
—  much  to  Goethe's  annoyance.  It  is  of  importance  like- 
wise to  note  the  way  in  which  Young  Germany  learned  how 
to  gain  political-literary  effects  from  the  new  French 
models ;  and  finally,  how  the  Northern  realism  of  presenta- 
tion, amalgamated  with  Tolstoy's,  Bjornson's,  Strindberg's 
and  also  Ibsen's  ethical  subjectivity,  educated  the  natural- 
ism of  the  Germans.  It  is  precisely  those  poets  that  are 
especially  characterized  by  German  peculiarities  who  have 
also  trained  themselves  in  the  use  of  foreign  subjects  and 
forms:  thus  did  Uhland,  Morike,  Hebbel,  and  all  the 
Romanticists.  "We  have  already  had  occasion  many  times 
to  call  attention  in  detail  to  the  educational  effect  of  foreign 
countries. 

German  literature  is,  in  short,  one  that  possesses  the 
typical  moments  of  development  which  mark  all  literatures, 
*and  which  Wilhelm  Scherer  was  the  first  to  call  to  our 
notice :  that  is  to  say,  it  is  a  complicated  organism  in  which 
the  most  varied  tendencies  cross  one  another,  the  most  dis- 
similar generations  of  writers  meet  together,  and  the  most 
remarkable  events  occur  in  the  most  unforeseen  manner. 


xlii  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

If  we  should  now  try  to  get  a  closer  view  of  the  last  and 
by  far  the  most  important  factor  of  literature,  namely,  the 
individual  writers  themselves,  this  difficulty  in  obtaining  a 
general  view  of  the  whole,  this  working  of  the  different 
parts  against  one  another,  this  pulling  away  from  one 
another,  presents  itself  more  clearly  to  us  here  than  any- 
where else.  The  attempt  to  classify  the  development  of 
our  literature  into  distinct  groups  according  to  the  per- 
sonalities which  compose  them  has  been  frequently  made, 
since  I,  in  spite  of  all  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  such  a 
hazardous  enterprise,  first  undertook,  in  my  German  Liter- 
ature of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  to  give  an  historical  and 
complete  presentation  of  a  literature  which  had  as  yet 
scarcely  become  historic.  I  can  here  merely  refer  in  pass- 
ing to  my  own  efforts  and  to  those  of  Bartels,  Biese,  Rie- 
mann,  and  Soergel  —  to  name  only  these;  for  in  compli- 
ance with  the  purpose  of  this  introduction  we  must  confine 
ourselves  to  giving  a  general  comprehensive  outline  — 
although  it  would  be  easy  to  improve  upon  it  if  one  went 
more  into  detail. 

It  seems  to  me  under  these  conditions  that  the  ground- 
lines  of  the  development  of  our  literature  from  1700-1900 
would  be  best  impressed  upon  us  by  comparing  the  order 
of  its  evolution  with  that  of  the  most  "  normal"  poetic 
genius  who  ever  lived  —  namely,  with  that  of  Goethe;  and 
thereby  we  should  prove  its  development  to  be  an  essen- 
tially normal  one. 

Like  all  "  natural  geniuses  "  Goethe  begins  as  an  imi- 
tator, dependent  upon  others;  for  the  poet  also  must  first 
learn  to  speak  and  to  walk.  The  earliest  literary  effort  of 
his  which  we  possess  is  the  poem  On  Christ's  Descent  into 
Hell,  which  naturally  seemed  strange  enough  to  Goethe 
when  this  long  forgotten  first  printed  specimen  of  his  liter- 
ary productiveness  was  laid  before  him  again  after  he  had 
grown  old.  In  this  poem  traditional  phrases  are  repeated 
without  the  addition  of  anything  new  and  original;  con- 
ventional feelings  are  expressed,  usual  methods  are  em- 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xliii 

ployed ;  all  this,  however,  not  without  a  certain  moderation 
of  expression  constituting  a  first  sign  of  the  otherwise  still 
completely  concealed  poetic  individuality. 

Such  is  the  character  that  the  world  of  virtuosos  also 
bears  about  the  year  1700.  The  poems  of  Rudolf  von 
Canitz  and  Johann  von  Besser  are,  though  in  entirely 
different  spheres,  just  the  same  kind  of  first  attempts  of  an 
imperfect  art  anxiously  following  foreign  models  as 
Goethe's  first  Christian  poem  —  though  truly  with  the 
tremendous  difference  that  they  represented  the  utmost 
that  Frenchified  courtly  art  could  ever  attain  to;  while 
Goethe's  poem,  on  the  contrary,  was  the  immature  sprig 
cut  away  before  its  time  from  the  stem  of  a  tree  soon  to 
stand  in  the  full  glory  of  its  bloom. 

When  now  in  the  Leipzig  period  the  young  student  dis- 
covers the  poet  within  him,  he  first  does  so  in  the  cus- 
tomary way :  he  recognizes  the  ability  on  his  part  to  handle 
the  language  of  the  contemporary  poets,  and  also  perhaps 
to  imbue  it  with  his  own  personal  feelings.  His  poems 
inserted  in  letters,  which  make  a  show  of  the  elegant 
pretence  of  improvisation,  but  in  reality  already  display  a 
great  dexterity  in  rhyming  and  in  the  use  of  imagery, 
may  be  compared  to  Hagedorn's  poetry;  but  at  the 
same  time  Goethe  is  trying  to  attain  the  serious  tone 
of  the  "  Pindarian "  odes,  just  as  Haller's  stilted 
scholarly  poetry  conquered  a  place  beside  Hagedorn's 
Epicurean  philosophy  of  life.  The  Book  of  Annette  (1767) 
as  a  whole,  however,  presents  the  first  attempt  on  the 
part  of  Goethe  to  reach  a  certain  completeness  in  his 
treatment  of  the  poetic  theme.  In  all  his  subsequent 
collections  of  poems  the  same  attempt  is  made,  it  is 
true  with  increasingly  rigid  interpretation  of  the  idea  of 
'*  completeness,"  and  in  so  far  one  is  reminded  in  this 
connection  of  the  theoretic  intentions  and  performances  of 
Gottsched. 

The  "  New  Songs  "  (Neue  Lieder)  of  1770  give  a  lop- 
sided exhibition  of  the  style  which  Leipzig  and  the  times 


xliv  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

suggested  to  the  young  poet :  namely  the  Anacreontic.  This 
kind  of  poetry,  learned  from  France  and  actually  very  far 
removed  from  the  serious  poetic  manner  of  the  Germans, 
so  that  one  is  almost  as  astonished  at  its  rapid  success  as 
at  that  of  the  Minnesang,  is  certainly  nearly  related  to 
Hagedorn's  joy  of  living:  what  is  new  about  it  is  that  which 
divides  the  revolutionary  poetry  of  a  Georg  Herwegh  from 
the  political  poetry  of  Chamisso  or  Hoffmann  von  Fallers- 
leben.  The  older  generation  are  satisfied  to  announce  their 
theory  of  life  with  comfortable  diffuseness,  or  with  sar- 
castic sharpness,  but  still  with  them  it  is  always  a  private 
affair — though  of  course  the  addition  of  moral  applications 
is  never  lacking  at  the  opportune  moment.  The  younger, 
on  the  contrary,  are  agitators;  they  seem,  as  it  were,  to 
enact  the  proper  line  of  conduct  in  pantomime  before  the 
people,  and  rouse  them  by  means  of  effectual  refrains  to 
practical  imitation.  Thus  these  Anacreontic  poets,  Johann 
Peter  Uz,  J.  W.  L.  Gleim,  even  Lessing  himself  with 
his  Kleinigkeiten,  and  the  most  elegant  of  the  group, 
J.  G.  Jacobi,  began,  at  least  in  appearance,  to  tear  down 
the  paper-made  wall  of  division  between  poetry  and 
life.  It  is  indeed  only  in  appearance,  though;  for  to 
almost  all  of  them  the  antithesis  of  Heine's  mocking 
verse  would  apply:  in  public  they  sang  of  wine  and 
in  secret  they  drank  water !  But  in  still  another  sense  the 
"New  Songs"  (Neue  Lieder)  of  Goethe  have  the  same 
significance  for  Goethe 's  career,  as  the  poems  of  the  Anacre- 
ontic poets  have  for  the  development  of  German  poetry. 
They  realized  a  new  intimacy  between  the  lyric  and  music, 
a  step  in  the  separation  of  the  poem  to  be  sung  from  the 
book  to  be  read. 

But  now  for  Strassburg  in  1770-1771!  There  Goethe 
received  a  double  stimulation  of  the  greatest  importance : 
in  Herder  he  learned  to  know  for  the  first  time  a  real  living 
genius,  and  at  the  same  time  a  man  before  whose  energy 
and  acumen  he  had  to  bow — and  no  one  has  ever  become 
great  who  has  not  once  been  forced  to  admire  a  great  man. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xlv 

And  then  above  all  in  Strassburg  the  first  genuine  love 
seized  him,  the  love  for  Frederika.  Added  to  these  were 
other  things  which  were  connected  with  both :  the  discovery 
of  the  varied  nature  of  the  landscapes  peculiar  to  different 
parts  of  the  country,  of  art  intimately  connected  with  his- 
tory—  the  rediscovery  of  Shakespeare.  In  Alsace  the 
young  Goethe  first  became  a  poet  in  the  broadest  sense  of 
the  word — it  was  there  that  he  wrote  the  Sesenheim 
Songs  and  important  dramatic  fragments  —  combining  at 
the  same  time  the  qualities  of  Lenz  and  Grabber  though 
once  more,  indeed,  that  which  for  the  lyric  poet  Lenz  and 
the  dramatic  poet  Grabbe  was  the  final  maximum,  for  him 
was  to  be  merely  a  transition  stage !  This  is  the  epoch  in 
Goethe's  life  in  which  for  the  first  time  his  poetry  gains 
an  * '  intrinsic  value, ' '  such  as  German  literature  gained 
through  the  patriotic-political  poetry,  through  Gleim's 
Grenadier-Lieder,  through  the  whole  poetic  work  of  the 
excellent  Ewald  von  Kleist,  and  through  Lessing's  Minna 
von  Barnhelm. 

Frankfurt,  Darmstadt,  Wetzlar  —  the  whole  time  of 
ripening  and  waiting  which  Fate  had  decreed  for  him  to 
pass  through  before  the  Weimar  period  —  are  character- 
ized by  the  after-effects  of  Herder 's  influence,  or  rather  let 
us  say  by  the  sprouting  of  all  those  seeds  which  had  long 
been  planted  in  Goethe,  but  which  now  germinated  and 
were  nourished  through  the  influence  of  the  great  peda- 
gogue. We  can  especially  remark  two  apparently  contra- 
dictory tendencies :  the  trend  in  the  direction  of  the  antique 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  •"  emerging  Gennanity  "  on  the 
other.  But  in  both  cases  his  grasp  of  a  strong  original 
autochthonous  art  is  the  essential  point,  in  contrast  to  the 
easy  appropriation  of  adopted  forms  in  Frankfurt  and 
Leipzig.  Thus  both  tendencies  also  came  together  in 
Klopstock  who  up  to  the  time  of  the  mature  period  of 
Goethe's  lyric  had,  in  spite  of  the  number  of  imitators, 
remained  a  solitary  phenomenon.  Goethe's  literary  activity 
up  to  this  time,  however,  is  more  like  music  between  the 


xlvi  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

acts.  Two  great  acts  follow:  in  1773  comes  Gotz;  in 
1774,  Werther.  And  with  Gotz  the  great  "  subjects  of 
humanity"  seize  possession  of  Goethe's  poetry,  as  they 
had  taken  possession  of  the  poetry  of  Germany  with 
Lessing — as  shown  by  his  whole  work  up  to  Nathan: 
for  Lessing,  the  strongest  adversary  of  mere  "  estheti- 
cism,"  really  accomplished  what  those  Anacreontic  poets 
had  merely  wished  to  do  —  or  seemed  to  wish  —  and 
brought  literature  into  close  touch  with  life.  The  Sorrows 
of  Werther  lays  hold  of  the  subjective  problems  of  the  age 
just  as  the  drama  of  liberty  lays  hold  of  the  objective;  in 
them  a  typical  character  of  the  times  is  analyzed  not  with- 
out zealously  making  use  of  models  —  both  innovations  of 
Wieland !  But  now  indeed  comes  the  most  important  of  all, 
that  which  in  its  greatness  represents  something  com- 
pletely new,  although  in  detail  Goethe  had  here  all  his 
teachers  to  teach  him — Lessing  who  had  written  Faust- 
scenes,  and  Wieland  who  was  so  fond  of  placing  the  two 
soyls  of  man  side  by  side,  and  Herder  who  had  an  abso- 
lutely Faust-like  nature;  so  that  people  have  tried,  with 
the  exaggeration  of  the  theorist,  to  hold  up  before  us  the 
whole  Faust  as  a  kind  of  dramatized  portrayal  of  Herder ! 
And  with  Faust  Goethe  in  German  literature  has  reached 
his  own  time  — "  For  his  century  bears  his  name!  " 

But  in  the  period  which  followed  the  predominating  posi- 
tion of  the  classical  writers  we  once  more  find  the  same 
parallelism  of  development.  Again  with  Goethe 's  dilettante 
beginnings  we  compare  a  school  of  weak  imitators,  which 
unhappily  was  protected  by  Goethe  himself  (and  also  by 
Schiller  in  his  literary  organs) ;  again  with  the  Strassburg 
period  and  its  Storm  and  Stress  we  compare  Romanticism, 
which  is  characterized  by  its  German  nationalism  and  its 
antique  tendencies,  which  is  sentimental  and  philosophical, 
critical  and  programmatical  like  the  time  of  Gotz,  which 
latter  surely  must  have  had  a  strong  effect  on  men  like 
Tieck  and  Arnim.  And  out  of  the  sentiment  for  his 
country,  which,  in  Goethe's  whole  literary  career,  is 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xlvii 

peculiar  only  to  the  poetry  of  the  Strassburg  period,  tend- 
encies develop  like  those  which  manifest  themselves  in  the 
literature  of  the  Wars  of  Liberation,  of  the  Swabian  School, 
in  the  older  poetry  of  political  conflict — in  short,  like  all 
those  tendencies  which  we  connect  with  Ludwig  Uhland's 
name. 

Goethe's  literary  satires  and  poems  for  special  occa- 
sions are  a  prelude  to  the  purely  literary  existence  and 
the  belligerent  spirit  of  men  like  Platen  and  Immermann, 
who  both,  as  it  were  by  accident,  found  their  way  into  the 
open  of  national  poesy.  The  self -absorption  in  Werther, 
the  delving  after  new  poetical  experiences  and  mediums  of 
expression;  the  method  of  expression  hovering  between 
form  and  illusory  improvisation  —  all  this  we  find  again  in 
the  strongest  individualists,  in  Heine,  in  Annette  von 
Droste,  in  Lenau.  The  Weimar  period,  however,  when  the 
poet  by  means  of  a  great  and  severe  self -discipline  trains 
himself  to  the  point  of  rigidity  in  order  to  become  the 
instrument  of  his  art  —  that  period  is,  with  Tasso,  paving 
the  way  for  the  school  of  Grillparzer,  while  that  infinite 
deepening  of  the  poetic  calling  is  a  preparation  for  Otto 
Ludwig,  Richard  Wagner,  and  Friedrich  Hebbel.  The  con- 
temporary novel  in  the  style  of  Wilhelm  Meister  is  revived 
by  the  Young  Germans,  above  all  by  Gutzkow,  in  the  same 
way  that  tendencies  found  in  Nathan  and  in  Gotz  are 
brought  out  again  in  Gutzkow 's  and  in  Heinrich  Laube's 
dramas,  so  rich  in  allusions.  The  national  spirit  of  which 
Egmont  is  full  also  fills  the  novels  of  Willibald  Alexis  and 
Berthold  Auerbach.  Finally  those  works,  besides  Tasso, 
which  we  are  wont  to  consider  the  crowning  achievements 
of  the  Weimar  period,  above  all,  IpUgenia,  have  perma- 
nently served  as  models  of  the  new,  and  in  their  way 
classical,  ''antiques"  —  for  the  Munich  School,  for  the 
Geibels  and  the  Heyses.  But  we  must  also  remember 
Morike  and  Stifter,  and  their  absorption  in  the  fullness  of 
the  inner  life,  which  none  of  them  could  attain  to  without 
somewhat  stunting  the  growth  of  life's  realities  —  Hebbel 


xlviii  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

perceived  this  clearly  enough  not  only  in  Stifter  but  in 
Goethe  himself.  Above  all,  however,  this  whole  epoch  of 
the  "  intellectual  poets  "  may,  in  a  certain  sense,  be  called 
the  Italian  Journey  of  German  literature.  Like  Goethe  in 
the  years  1787-1788,  the  German  muse  in  this  period  only 
feels  entirely  at  home  in  Italy,  or  at  least  in  the  South;  in 
her  own  country  she  feels  misnamed. 

Now  let  us  consider  Goethe  after  he  had  settled  down  in 
Weimar  for  the  second  time.  Scientific  work  seems  for  a 
while  to  have  entirely  replaced  poetic  activity,  as  for  a  mo- 
ment the  scientific  prose  of  Ranke  and  Helmholtz  came  near 
to  being  of  more  consequence  for  the  German  language  than 
most  of  what  was  produced  at  the  same  time  by  so-called 
poetry.  Then  the  Campaign  in  Champagne  (1792),  and 
the  new  employment  of  his  time  with  political  problems, 
constitutes  for  Goethe  a  temporary  phase  that  may  be 
compared  with  that  recapturing  of  history  by  political- 
historical  writers  like  Freytag  and  Treitschke,  in  the  same 
way  that  Hermann  and  Dorothea  (1796),  in  which  an  old 
historical  anecdote  of  the  time  of  the  expulsion  of  the 
Protestants  from  Salzburg  is  transplanted  to  the  time  of 
the  French  Revolution,  may  be  compared  with  the  his- 
torical "  Novellen  "  of  Riehl,  Scheffel,  and  C.  F.  Meyer. 
Goethe's  ballads  (1797-1798)  maintain  the  tradition  that 
was  to  be  given  new  life  by  Fontane,  Strachwitz,  and 
C.  F.  Meyer.  Goethe's  later  novels  with  their  didactic 
tendencies,  and  the  inclination  to  interpolate  "  Novellen  " 
and  diaries,  lead  up  to  Gottfried  Keller,  Wilhelm  Raabe 
and  again  to  Fontane.  The  table-songs  and  other  con- 
vivial poetry  of  Goethe's  old  age  are  taken  up  again  by 
Scheffel ;  Goethe 's  *  *  Novellen  ' '  themselves  were  continued 
by  all  those  eminent  writers  whom  we  have  already 
named.  The  Divan,  with  its  bent  toward  immutable  rela- 
tions, prepares  the  way  for  the  new  lyric,  until  finally, 
with  the  second  part  of  Faust,  mythical  world-poetry  and 
symbolism  complete  the  circle,  just  as  the  cycle  of  German 
literature  finishes  with  Nietzsche,  Stefan  George,  Spitteler 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xlix 

and  Hofmannsthal.  At  the  same  time  new  forces  are  start- 
ing to  form  the  new  cycle,  or,  to  speak  like  Goethe,  the  newest 
spiral:  Hauptmann,  Frenssen,  Ricarda  Huch,  Enrica  von 
Handel,  to  name  only  these.  And  how  many  others  have 
we  not  previously  left  unnamed! 

But  all  this  has  not  been  merely  to  exercise  our  ingenuity. 
By  drawing  this  parallel,  which  is  naturally  only  to  be 
taken  approximately,  we  have  intended  to  make  clear  the 
comforting  probability  that,  in  spite  of  all  the  exagger- 
ating, narrowing  down,  and  forcing  to  which  it  has  been 
obliged  to  submit,  our  modern  and  most  recent  German 
literature  is  essentially  a  healthy  literature.  That,  in  spite 
of  all  deviation  caused  by  influential  theorists  —  of  the 
Storm  and  Stress,  of  the  Romantic  School,  of  the  period  of 
Goethe's  old  age,  of  the  epigonean  or  naturalistic  criticism, 
or  by  the  dazzling  phenomena  of  foreign  countries, —  never- 
theless in  the  essentials  it  obeys  its  own  inner  laws.  That 
in  spite  of  all  which  in  the  present  stage  of  our  literature 
may  create  a  painful  or  confusing  impression,  we  have  no 
cause  to  doubt  that  a  new  and  powerful  upward  develop- 
ment ivill  take  place,  and  no  cause  either  to  underrate  the 
literature  of  our  own  day!  It  is  richer  in  great,  and  what 
is  perhaps  more  important,  in  serious  talents  than  any 
other  contemporary  literature.  No  other  can  show  such 
wealth  of  material,  no  other  such  abundance  of  interesting 
and,  in  part,  entirely  new  productions.  We  do  not  say  this 
in  order  to  disparage  others  who  in  some  ways  were,  only 
a  short  time  ago,  so  far  superior  to  us  —  as  were  the  French 
in  surety  of  form,  the  Scandinavians  in  greatness  of  talents, 
the  Russians  in  originality,  the  English  in  cultivation  of  the 
general  public ;  but  we  are  inspired  to  utter  it  by  the  hope- 
ful joy  which  every  one  must  feel  who,  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  our  modern  lyric  poetry,  our  novels,  dramas,  epic 
and  didactic  poetry,  does  not  allow  himself  to  be  blinded 
by  prejudice  or  offended  vanity.  A  great  literature  such 
as  we  possessed  about  1800  we  of  a  certainty  do  not  have 
today.  A  more  hopeful  chaos  or  one  more  rich  in  fertile 


1  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

seeds  we  have  not  possessed  since  the  days  of  Romanticism. 
It  is  surely  worth  while  to  study  this  literature,  and  in  all 
its  twists  and  turns  to  admire  the  heliotropism  of  the  Ger- 
man ideal  and  the  importance  which  our  German  literature 
has  won  as  a  mediator,  an  experimenter,  and  a  model  for 
that  world-literature,  the  outline  of  which  the  prophetic 
eye  of  the  greatest  German  poet  was  the  first  to  discern, 
and  his  hand,  equally  expert  in  scientific  and  poetic  crea- 
tion, the  first  to  describe. 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE 

BY  CALVIN  THOMAS,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  Germanic  Languages  and  Literatures,  Columbia  University 

OETHE,  the  illustrious  poet-sage  whom 
Matthew  Arnold  called  the  "clearest, 
largest,  and  most  helpful  thinker  of  mod- 
ern times, "  was  born  August  28,  1749,  at 
Frankfurt  on  the  Main.*  He  was  chris- 
tened Johann  Wolfgang.  In  his  early 
years  his  familiar  name  was  Wolfgang,  or 
simply  Wolf,  never  Johann.  His  family  was  of  the  middle 
class,  the  aristocratic  v on  which  sometimes  appears  in  his 
name,  in  accordance  with  German  custom,  having  come  to 
him  with  a  patent  of  nobility  which  he  received  in  the 
year  1782. 

Johann  Caspar  Goethe,  the  poet's  father,  was  the  son  of 
a  prosperous  tailor,  who  was  also  a  tailor's  son.  Having 
abundant  means  and  being  of  an  ambitious  turn,  Johann 
Caspar  prepared  himself  for  the  profession  of  law,  spent 
some  time  in  Italy,  and  then  settled  in  Frankfurt  in  the 
hope  of  rising  to  distinction  in  the  public  service.  Disap- 
pointed in  this  hope,  he  procured  the  imperial  title  of 
Councilor,  which  gave  him  a  dignified  social  status  but 
nothing  in  particular  to  do.  He  thus  became  virtually  a 
gentleman  of  leisure,  since  his  law  practise  was  quite  insig- 
nificant. In  1748  he  married  Katharina  Elisabeth  Textor, 


*  The  chief  original  sources  for  the  life  of  Goethe  are  his  own  autobiographic 
writings,  his  letters,  his  diaries,  and  his  conversations.  Of  the  autobiographic 
writings  the  most  important  are  (1)  Poetry  and  Truth  from  my  Life,  which 
ends  with  the  year  1775;  (2)  Italian  Journey,  covering  the  period  from 
September,  1786,  to  June,  1788;  (3)  Campaign  in  France  and  Siege  of  Antwerp, 
dealing  with  episodes  of  the  years  1792  and  1793;  (4)  Annals  (Tag-  und 
Jahreshefte) ,  which  are  useful  for  his  later  years  down  to  1823.  His  letters, 
forty-nine  volumes  in  all,  and  his  diaries,  thirteen  volumes,  are  included  in 
the  great  Weimar  edition  of  Goethe's  works.  His  conversations,  so  far  as  they 
were  recorded,  have  been  well  edited  by  W.  von  Biedermann,  ten  volumes, 
Leipzig,  1889-1896. 


2  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

whose  father,  Johann  Wolfgang  Textor,  was  the  town's 
chief  magistrate  and  most  eminent  citizen.  She  was 
eighteen  years  old  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  —  twenty 
years  younger  than  her  husband  —  and  well  fitted  to  become 
a  poet's  mother.  The  gift  on  which  she  especially  prided 
herself  was  her  story- telling.  Wolfgang  was  the  first  child 
of  these  parents. 

The  paternal  strain  in  Goethe's  blood  made  for  level- 
headedness, precise  and  methodical  ways,  a  serious  view 
of  life,  and  a  desire  to  make  the  most  of  it.  By  his  mother 
he  was  a  poet  who  liked  nothing  else  so  well  as  to  invent 
dream-worlds  and  commune  with  the  spirits  of  his  imagi- 
nation. He  also  ascribes  to  his  mother  his  Frohnatur,  his 
joyous  nature.  And  certain  it  is  that  his  temperament  was 
on  the  whole  sunny.  As  he  grew  to  manhood  men  and 
women  alike  were  charmed  by  him.  He  became  a  virtuoso 
in  love  and  had  a  genius  for  friendship.  But  he  was  not 
always  cheerful.  In  his  youth,  particularly,  he  was  often 
moody  and  given  to  brooding  over  indefinable  woes.  He 
suffered  acutely  at  times  from  what  is  now  called  the 
melancholia  of  adolescence.  This  was  a  phase  of  that 
emotional  sensitiveness  and  nervous  instability  which  are 
nearly  always  a  part  of  the  poet's  dower. 

Wolfgang  grew  up  in  a  wholesome  atmosphere  of  com- 
fort and  refinement.  He  never  knew  the  tonic  bitterness 
of  poverty.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  never  spoiled  by 
Ms  advantages;  to  his  dying  day  he  disliked  luxury.  At 
home  under  private  tutors  the  boy  studied  Latin,  French, 
and  English,  and  picked  up  a  little  Italian  by  overhearing 
his  sister's  lessons.  In  1758  Frankfurt  was  occupied  by  a 
French  army,  and  a  French  playhouse  was  set  going  for 
the  diversion  of  the  officers.  In  the  interest  of  his  French 
Wolfgang  was  allowed  to  go  to  the  theatre,  and  he  made 
such  rapid  progress  that  he  was  soon  studying  the  dramatic 
unities  as  expounded  by  Corneille  and  actually  trying  to 
write  a  French  play.  Withal  he  was  left  much  to  himself, 
so  that  he  had  time  to  explore  Frankfurt  to  his  heart's 


Wolf>.  "as  the  town's 

I   most  She   was 

twenty 

The  gift  on  which 
jry- telling,  mg  wu. 

its. 

ill  strain  i  blood 

.  precise  and  - 

'  a  desire  to  'ost  of 

i  who  liked  nothing  else  so 
tnd  commane  with  the  sp 
nation.    Hf-  also  a^ 

•  is  that  his 

on  the  wfc'  grew  to  n 

won  I  by  him.    He 

in  I  '  had  &  for  friendship.    1*  not 

always  e.be  h,  particularly,  fee  was  often 

mof  WWKWQMS^Fm&ISRft* 

-  from  what  i- 
•olescence.    This  was  a  ph* 
al  ftensitivenoss  and  nervous  ins; 
i.wa>-s  a  part  of  the  poet's  dower. 

rrew  up  in  a  wholesome  atmo 
for*  -iinement.     He  nover  knew  the  t 

On  the  o  rid,  he  was  nc  - 

day  he  di^  At 

r  privat  a  the  boy  studied  Lati  >ch, 

i,  and  pick>  little  Italian  I 

-lessons.    J  Frankfurt  was  occ 

army,  and  a  F  house  was 

the  diversion  of  the  of  In  the  interest 

A-as  all.  go  to  the  theatre,  and  he  made 

rapid  progress  that  he  was  soon  studying  tl:< 


r  n      »°- 

wnfe  &Ttem*tn4f?  WitfAfhe  was  left  mwh  to  himself, 

so  that  ke  bad  tii;  vplore  Frankfurt  to  his  heart's 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  3 

content.  He  was  much  in  contact  with  people  of  the 
humbler  sort  and  learned  to  like  their  racy  dialect.  He 
penetrated  into  the  ghetto  and  learned  the  jargon  of  the 
Jews.  He  even  attacked  biblical  Hebrew,  being  led  thereto 
by  his  great  love  of  the  Old  Testament. 

It  was  his  boyish  ambition  to  become  a  great  poet.  His 
favorite  amusement  was  a  puppet-show,  for  which  he 
invented  elaborate  plays.  From  his  tenth  year  on  he 
wrote  a  great  deal  of  verse,  early  acquiring  technical 
facility  and  local  renown  and  coming  to  regard  himself  as 
a  "  thunderer."  He  attempted  a  polyglot  novel,  also  a 
biblical  tale  on  the  subject  of  Joseph,  which  he  destroyed 
on  observing  that  the  hero  did  nothing  but  pray  and  weep. 
"When  he  was  ready  for  the  university  he  wished  to  go  to 
Gottingen  to  study  the  old  humanities,  but  his  father  was 
bent  on  making  a  lawyer  of  him.  So  it  came  about  that 
some  ten  years  of  his  early  life  were  devoted,  first  as  a 
student  and  then  as  a  practitioner,  to  a  reluctant  and  half- 
hearted grapple  with  the  intricacies  of  Holy  Roman  law. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  Goethe  entered  the  University  of 
Leipzig,  where  he  remained  about  three  years.  The  law 
lectures  bored  him  and  he  soon  ceased  to  attend  them. 
The  other  studies  that  he  took  up,  especially  logic  and 
philosophy,  seemed  to  him  arid  and  unprofitable  —  mere 
conventional  verbiage  without  any  bed-rock  of  real  knowl- 
edge. So  he  presently  fell  into  that  mood  of  disgust  with 
academic  learning  which  was  afterwards  to  form  the  key- 
note of  Faust.  Outside  the  university  he  found  congenial 
work  in  Oeser's  drawing-school.  Oeser  was  an  artist  of 
no  great  power  with  the  brush,  but  a  genial  man,  a  friend 
of  Winckelmann,  and  an  enthusiast  for  Greek  art.  Goethe 
learned  to  admire  and  love  him,  and  from  this  time  on,  for 
some  twenty  years,  his  constant  need  of  artistic  expression 
found  hardly  less  satisfaction  in  drawing  from  nature  than 
in  poetry. 

His  poetic  ambition  received  little  encouragement  in  uni- 
versity circles.  Those  to  whom  he  read  his  ambitious 


4  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

verses  made  light  of  them.  The  venerated  Gellert,  himself 
a  poet  of  repute,  advised  the  lad  to  cultivate  a  good  prose 
style  and  look  to  his  handwriting.  No  wonder  that  he 
despaired  of  his  talent,  concluded  that  he  could  never  be 
a  poet,  and  burnt  his  effusions.  A  maddening  love-affair 
with  his  landlady's  daughter,  Anna  Katharina  Schonkopf, 
revived  the  dying  lyric  flame,  and  he  began  to  write  verses 
in  the  gallant  erotic  vein  then  and  there  fashionable  — 
verses  that  tell  of  love-lorn  shepherds  and  shepherdesses, 
give  sage  advice  to  girls  about  keeping  their  innocence, 
and  moralize  on  the  ways  of  this  wicked  world.  They  show 
no  signs  of  lyric  genius.  His  short-lived  passion  for 
Annette,  as  he  called  her,  whom  he  tormented  with  his 
jealousy  until  she  lost  patience  and  broke  off  the  intimacy, 
was  also  responsible  for  his  first  play,  Die  Laune  des 
Verliebten,  or  The  Lover's  Wayward  Humor.  It  is  a  pretty 
one-act  pastoral  in  alexandrine  verse,  the  theme  being  the 
punishment  of  an  over- jealous  lover.  What  is  mainly  sig- 
nificant in  these  Leipzig  poetizings  is  the  fact  that  they 
grew  out  of  genuine  experience.  Goethe  had  resolved  to 
drop  his  ambitious  projects,  such  as  Belshazzar,  and  coin 
his  own  real  thoughts  and  feelings  into  verse.  Thus  early 
he  was  led  into  the  way  of  poetic  "  confession." 

In  the  summer  of  1768  he  was  suddenly  prostrated  by  a 
grave  illness  —  an  internal  hemorrhage  which  was  at  first 
thought  to  portend  consumption.  Pale  and  languid  he  re- 
turned to  his  father's  house,  and  for  several  months  it 
was  uncertain  whether  he  was  to  live  or  die.  During  this 
period  of  seclusion  he  became  deeply  interested  in  magic, 
alchemy,  astrology,  cabalism,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
He  even  set  up  a  kind  of  alchemist's  laboratory  to  search 
experimentally  for  the  panacea.  Out  of  these  abstruse 
studies  grew  Faust's  wonderful  dream  of  an  ecstatic  spirit- 
life  to  be  attained  by  natural  magic.  Of  course  the  menace 
of  impending  death  drew  his  thoughts  in  the  direction  of 
religion.  Among  the  intimate  friends  of  the  family  was 
the  devout  Susanna  von  Klettenberg,  one  of  the  leading 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  5 

spirits  in  a  local  conventicle  of  the  Moravian  Brethren. 
This  lady  —  afterwards  immortalized  as  the  1 1  beautiful 
soul  "  of  Wilhelm  Meister — tried  to  have  the  sick  youth 
make  his  peace  with  God  in  her  way,  that  is,  by  accepting 
Christ  as  an  ever-present  personal  saviour.  While  he  never 
would  admit  a  conviction  of  sin  he  envied  the  calm  of  the 
saintly  maiden  and  was  so  far  converted  that  he  attended 
the  meetings  of  the  Brethren,  took  part  in  their  com- 
munion service,  and  for  a  while  spoke  the  language  of  a 
devout  pietist. 

This  religious  experience  of  his  youth  bit  deep  into 
Goethe 's  character.  He  soon  drifted  away  from  the  pietists 
and  their  ways,  he  came  to  have  a  poor  opinion  of  priests 
and  priestcraft,  and  in  time  men  called  him  a  heathen. 
Nevertheless  his  nature  had  been  so  deeply  stirred  in  his 
youth  by  religion's  mystic  appeal  that  he  never  afterwards 
lost  his  reverence  for  genuine  religious  feeling.  To  the  end 
of  his  days  the  aspiration  of  the  human  soul  for  com- 
munion with  God  found  in  him  a  delicate  and  sympathetic 
interpreter. 

During  his  convalescence  Goethe  retouched  a  score  of 
his  Leipzig  songs  and  published  them  anonymously,  with 
music  by  his  friend  Breitkopf ,  under  the  title  of  New  Songs. 
He  regarded  them  at  the  time  as  trifles  that  had  come  into 
being  without  art  or  effort.  "  Young,  in  love,  and  full  of 
feeling,"  he  had  sung  them  so,  while  "  playing  the  old 
game  of  youth."  Today  they  seem  to  convey  little  fore- 
warning of  the  matchless  lyric  gift  that  was  soon  to  awaken, 
being  a  shade  too  intellectual  and  sententious.  One  hears 
more  of  the  critic's  comment  than  of  the  poet's  cry.  It 
was  at  this  time  also  that  he  rewrote  an  earlier  Leipzig 
play,  expanding  it  from  one  act  to  three  and  giving  it  the 
title  Die  Mitschuldigen,  or  The  Fellow-culprits.  It  is  a 
sort  of  rogue's  comedy  in  middle-class  life,  written  in  the 
alexandrine  verse,  which  was  soon  to  be  discarded  along 
with  other  French  fashions.  We  have  a  quartet  consisting 
of  an  inquisitive  inn-keeper,  his  mismated  sentimental 


6  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

daughter,  her  worthless  husband,  and  her  former  lover. 
They  tangle  themselves  up  in  a  series  of  low  intrigues  and 
are  finally  unmasked  as  one  and  all  poor  miserable  sinners. 
Technically  it  is  a  good  play  —  lively,  diverting,  well  put 
together.  But  one  can  not  call  it  very  edifying. 

In  the  spring  of  1770  Goethe  entered  the  University  of 
Strassburg,  which  was  at  that  time  in  French  territory. 
It  was  a  part  of  his  general  purpose  to  better  his  French, 
but  the  actual  effect  of  his  sojourn  in  Alsatia  was  to  put 
him  out  of  humor  with  all  French  standards,  especially 
with  the  classic  French  drama,  and  to  excite  in  him  a  fervid 
enthusiasm  for  the  things  of  the  fatherland.  This  was  due 
partly  to  the  influence  of  Herder,  with  whom  he  now  came 
into  close  personal  relations.  From  Herder,  who  was  six 
years  his  senior  and  already  known  by  his  Fragments  and 
Critical  Forests  as  a  trenchant  and  original  critic,  he  heard 
the  gospel  of  a  literary  revolution.  Rules  and  conventions 
were  to  be  thrown  overboard;  the  new  watchwords  were 
nature,  power,  originality,  genius,  fulness  of  expression. 
He  conceived  a  boundless  admiration  for  Homer,  Ossian, 
and  Shakspere,  in  each  of  whom  he  saw  the  mirror  of  an 
epoch  and  a  national  life.  He  became  an  enthusiastic  col- 
lector of  Alsatian  folksongs  and  was  fascinated  by  the 
Strassburg  minster  —  at  a  time  when  ' '  Gothic  * '  was  gen- 
erally regarded  as  a  synonym  of  barbarous.  Withal  his 
gift  for  song-making  came  to  a  new  stage  of  perfection 
under  the  inspiration  of  his  love  for  the  village  maid 
Friederike  Brion.  From  this  time  forth  he  was  the  prince 
of  German  lyrists. 

In  the  summer  of  1771  he  returned  to  Frankfurt  once 
more,  this  time  with  the  title  of  licentiate  in  law,  and  began 
to  practise  in  a  perfunctory  way,  with  his  heart  in  his 
literary  projects.  By  the  end  of  the  year  he  had  written 
out  the  first  draft  of  a  play  which  he  afterwards  revised 
and  published  anonymously  (in  1773)  under  the  title  of 
Gotz  von  Berlichingen.  By  its  exuberant  fulness  of  life, 
its  bluff  German  heartiness,  and  the  freshness  and  variety 


.\ 


iCS 

;ghter,  h«r  ss  husband,  and  her  former  lover. 

a  series  of  low  intrigues  and 
•  ne  and  all  poor  mi-  sinners. 

od  play  —  lively,  <  put 

not  call  it  ver  ing. 

y  of 

was  at  that  time  in  French  territory. 

:  al  purpose  to  better  his  French, 

>f  his  sojourn  in  Alsatia  was  to  put 

,rnor  with  all  French  standards,  especially 

French  drama,  and  to  excite  in  him  a  fervid 

uga  of  the  fatherland.    This  was  due 

of  Herder,  with  whom  he  now  came 

lations.    From  Herder,  who  was  six 

yw  rd  already  known  by  his  Fragments  and 

•*  as  a  trenchant  and  original  critic,  he  IK 

evolution.    Rules  and  conventions 
.TOHAtrK^OLFOAHO  VON-06iJrWE. 

nature,  a^nality,  genius,  fulness  of  expression. 

i  ?  admiration  for  Homer,  Ossian, 

and  Shakspere,  in  each  of  whom  he  saw  the  mirror  of 
epoch  and  a  national  life.    He  became  an  ei 
lector  of  Alsatian  folksongs  and  v.  the 

Strassburg  minster  —  at  a  time  v 

erally  regarded  as  a  synonym  of  barbaron  ial  his 

gift  for  song-making  came  to  a  perfect 

under  the  inspiration   of  his  love  for  iage  maid 

Friederike  Brion.    From  this  fiixw*  forth  he  was  the  prince 
of  German  lyrists. 

Ifi  !je  returned  to  Frankfurt  once 

n»o»-  .f  licentiate  in  law,  and  began 

to  \  way,  with  his  heart  in  his 

<[  of  the  year  he  had  written 

u  play  which  he  afterwards  rev^ 

//v.,,^,  ^e'^«*n^nifi8ly^lwJ6t773)  under  the  title  of 

By  its  exuberant  fulness  of  life, 

ULtess,  and  the  freshness  and  variety 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  7 

of  its  scenes,  it  took  the  public  by  storm,  notwithstanding 
its  disregard  of  the  approved  rules  of  play-writing.  The 
next  year  he  published  The  Sufferings  of  Young  Werther, 
a  tragic  tale  of  a  weak-willed  sentimental  youth  of  hyper- 
esthetic  tendencies,  who  commits  suicide  because  of  dis- 
appointment in  love.  The  story  was  the  greatest  literary 
triumph  that  Germany  had  ever  known,  and  in  point  of 
sheer  artistic  power  it  remains  to  this  day  the  best  of  novels 
in  the  tragic-sentimental  vein.  These  two  works  carried 
the  name  of  Goethe  far  and  wide  and  made  him  the  accepted 
leader  of  the  literary  revolution  which  long  afterwards 
came  to  be  known,  from  the  title  of  a  play  by  Klinger,  as 
the  Storm  and  Stress. 

The  years  1773-1775  were  for  Goethe  a  time  of  high 
emotional  tension,  from  which  he  sought  relief  in  rapid, 
desultory,  and  multifarious  writing.  Exquisite  songs, 
musical  comedies  of  a  sentimental  tinge,  humorous  and 
satiric  skits  in  dramatic  form,  prose  tragedy  of  passionate 
error,  and  poetic  tragedy  of  titanic  revolt  —  all  these  and 
more  welled  up  from  a  sub-conscious  spring  of  feeling, 
taking  little  counsel  of  the  sober  intellect.  Several  minor 
productions  were  left  unfinished  and  were  afterwards 
published  in  fragmentary  form.  Such  is  the  case  with 
Prometheus,  a  splendid  fragment,  in  which  we  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  Titan  battling,  as  the  friend  of  man,  against  the 
ever-living  gods.  Of  the  works  completed  and  published 
at  this  time,  aside  from  Gotz  and  Werther,  the  most  notable 
were  Ciavigo  and  Stella,  prose  tragedies  in  which  a  fickle 
lover  meets  with  condign  punishment.  Another  prose 
tragedy,  Egmont,  with  its  hero  conceived  as  a  "  demonic  " 
nature  borne  on  to  his  doom  by  his  own  buoyancy  of  spirit, 
was  nearly  finished.  Most  important  of  all,  a  considerable 
portion  of  Faust,  which  was  to  be  its  author's  great  life- 
work,  was  "  stormed  out  "  during  these  early  years  at 
Frankfurt. 

The  legendary  Faust  is  presented  as  a  bad  man  who 
sells  his  soul  to  the  devil  for  twenty-four  years  of  power 


8  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

and  pleasure,  gets  what  he  bargained  for,  and  in  the  end 
goes  to  perdition.  Young  Goethe  conceived  his  hero  differ- 
ently: not  as  a  bad  man  on  the  way  to  hell,  and  not  — 
at  first — as  a  good  man  on  the  way  to  heaven.  He  thought 
of  him  rather  as  a  towering  personality  passionately  athirst 
for  transcendental  knowledge  and  universal  experience; 
as  a  man  whose  nature  contained  the  very  largest  possi- 
bilities both  for  good  and  for  evil.  It  is  probable  that, 
when  he  began  to  write,  Goethe  did  not  intend  to  anticipate 
the  judgment  of  God  upon  Faust 's  career.  The  essence 
of  his  dramatic  plan  was  to  carry  his  hero  through  a  life- 
time of  varied  experience,  letting  him  sin  and  suffer 
grandly,  and  at  last  to  give  him  something  to  do  which 
would  seem  worth  having  lived  for.  After  the  going  down 
of  the  curtain,  in  all  probability,  he  was  to  be  left  in  the 
hands  of  the  Eternal  Pardoner.  Later  in  life,  as  we  shall 
see,  Goethe  decided  not  only  to  save  his  hero,  but  to  make 
his  salvation  a  part  of  the  dramatic  action. 

The  close  of  the  year  1775  brought  a  momentous  change 
in  Goethe's  life  and  prospects.  On  the  invitation  of  the 
young  duke  Karl  August,  who  had  met  him  and  taken  a 
liking  to  him,  he  went  to  visit  the  Weimar  court,  not  expect- 
ing to  stay  more  than  a  few  weeks.  But  the  duke  was  so 
pleased  with  his  gifted  and  now  famous  guest  that  he 
presently  decided  to  keep  him  in  Weimar,  if  possible,  by 
making  him  a  member  of  the  Council  of  State.  Goethe  was 
the  more  willing  to  remain,  since  he  detested  his  law  prac- 
tise, and  his  income  from  authorship  was  pitifully  small. 
Moreover,  he  saw  in  the  boyish,  impulsive,  sport-loving 
prince  a  sterling  nature  that  might  be  led  in  the  ways  of 
wise  rulership.  For  the  nonce  this  was  mission  enough. 
He  took  his  seat  in  the  Council  in  June,  1776,  with  the 
title  of  Councilor  of  Legation.  At  first  there  was  not  very 
much  for  him  to  do  except  to  familiarize  himself  with  the 
physical  and  economic  conditions  of  the  little  duchy.  This 
he  did  with  a  will.  He  set  about  studying  mineralogy, 
geology,  botany,  and  was  soon  observing  the  homologies 


GOETHE'S    GARDEN    HOUSE    IN   WEIMAR 
GOETHE'S  HOUSE  IN  WEIMAR 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  9 

of  the  vertebrate  skeleton.  Withal  he  was  very  attentive 
to  routine  business.  One  after  another  important  depart- 
ments of  administration  were  turned  over  to  him,  until 
he  became,  in  1782,  the  President  of  the  Chambers  and 
hence  the  leading  statesman  of  the  duchy. 

All  this  produced  a  sobering  and  clarifying  effect.  The 
inner  storm  and  stress  gradually  subsided,  and  the  new 
Goethe  —  statesman,  scientific  investigator,  man  of  the 
world,  courtier,  friend  of  princes  —  came  to  see  that  after 
all  feeling  was  not  everything,  and  that  its  untrammeled 
expression  was  not  the  whole  of  art.  Form  and  decorum 
counted  for  more  than  he  had  supposed,  and  revolution 
was  not  the  word  of  wisdom.  Self-control  was  the  only 
basis  of  character,  and  limitation  lay  at  the  foundation  of 
all  art.  To  work  to  make  things  better,  even  in  a  humble 
sphere,  was  better  than  to  fret  over  the  badness  of  the 
world.  Nature's  method  was  that  of  bit-by-bit  progress, 
and  to  puzzle  out  her  ways  was  a  noble  and  fascinating 
employment.  In  this  general  way  of  thinking  he  was  con- 
firmed by  the  study  of  Spinoza's  Ethics,  a  book  which,  as 
he  said  long  afterwards,  quieted  his  passions  and  gave  him 
a  large  and  free  outlook  over  the  world.  In  this  process 
of  quieting  the  passions  some  influence  must  be  ascribed 
to  Charlotte  von  Stein,  a  woman  in  whom,  for  some  twelve 
years  of  his  life,  he  found  his  muse  and  his  madonna. 
His  letters  often  address  her  in  terms  of  idolatrous  endear- 
ment. She  was  a  wife  and  a  mother,  but  Weimar  society 
regarded  her  relation  to  Goethe  as  a  platonic  attachment 
not  to  be  condemned. 

The  artistic  expression  of  the  new  life  in  Weimar  is 
found  in  various  short  poems,  notably  Wanderer's  Night- 
song,  Ilmenau,  The  Divine,  and  The  Mysteries;  also  in  a 
number  of  plays  which  were  written  for  the  amateur  stage 
of  the  court  circle.  The  Weimarians  were  very  fond  of 
play-acting,  and  Goethe  became  their  purveyor  of  dramatic 
supplies.  It  was  to  meet  this  demand  that  he  wrote 
Brother  and  Sister  (Die  Geschwister) ,  The  Triumph  of 


10  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Sentimentalism,  The  Fisher-maid,  The  Birds,  and  other 
pieces.  Much  more  important  than  any  of  these  bagatelles, 
which  were  often  hastily  composed  for  a  birthday  celebra- 
tion or  some  other  festive  occasion,  are  the  two  fine  poetic 
dramas,  Iphigenie  and  Tasso.  The  former  was  first  writ- 
ten rather  rapidly  in  stately  rythmic  prose  and  played  by 
the  amateurs,  with  Goethe  himself  in  the  role  of  Orestes, 
in  the  spring  of  1779.  Eight  years  later,  the  author  being 
then  in  Italy,  it  was  recast  with  great  care  in  mellifluous 
blank  verse.  Iphigenie  is  essentially  a  drama  of  the  soul, 
there  being  little  in  it  of  what  is  commonly  called  action. 
A  youth  who  is  the  prey  of  morbid  illusions,  so  that  his 
life  has  become  a  burden,  is  cured  by  finding  a  noble-minded 
sister,  whose  whole  being  radiates  peace  and  self-posses- 
sion. The  entire  power  of  Goethe's  chastened  art  is  here 
lavished  on  the  figure  of  his  heroine  who,  by  her  goodness, 
her  candor,  her  sweet  reasonableness,  not  only  heals  her 
soul-sick  brother,  but  so  works  on  the  barbarian  king  Thoas, 
who  would  fain  have  her  for  his  wife,  that  he  wins  a  notable 
victory  over  himself. 

By  the  end  of  his  first  decade  in  Weimar  Goethe  began 
to  feel  that  he  needed  and  had  earned  a  vacation.  His 
conduct  of  the  public  business  had  been  highly  successful, 
but  he  had  starved  his  esthetic  nature ;  for  after  all  Weimar 
was  only  a  good-sized  village  that  could  offer  little  to  the 
lover  of  art.  Overwork  had  so  told  upon  him  that  he  was 
unable  to  hold  himself  long  to  any  literary  project.  He 
had  begun  half  a  dozen  important  works,  but  had  completed 
none  of  them,  and  the  public  was  beginning  to  suspect  that 
the  author  of  Gotz  and  Werther  was  lost  to  literature.  The 
effect  of  the  whole  situation  —  that  inner  conflict  between 
the  poetic  dreamer  and  the  man  of  affairs  which  is  the 
theme  of  Tasso  —  was  to  produce  a  feeling  of  depression, 
as  of  a  bird  caught  in  a  net.  So  acute  did  the  trouble 
become  that  he  afterwards  spoke  of  it  as  a  terrible  disease. 
In  the  summer  of  1786  he  contracted  with  the  Leipzig  pub- 
lisher Goschen  for  a  new  edition  of  his  works  in  eight 


AVIOA 


MAN  CLA*- 

l     her-maid,  T  ds,  and  other 

aportant  than  bagatelles, 

lily  con;  rthday  celebra- 

r  festive  oc<  the  two  fine  poetic 

and  Tasso.     The  was  first  writ- 

in  stately  and  played  by 

with  Goethe  himself  in  the  role  of  Orestes, 

f  1779.     Eight  years  later,  the  author  being 

ily,  it  was  recast  with  great  care  in  mellifluous 

Jphiger,  lentially  a  drama  of  the  soul, 

eing  little  in  it  of  what  is  commonly  called  action. 

h  who  is  the  prey  of  morbid  illusions,  so  that  his 

has  become  a  burden,  is  cured  by  finding  a  noble-minded 

whose  whole  being  radiates  peace  and  self-posses- 

.,     The  entire  power  of  Goethe's  chastened  art  is  here 

lavished  on  the  figure  of  his  heroine  who,  by  her  goodness, 

her  candor,  her  aCOBTHE  IN  UHE  CAMPAGNA  v  heals  her 

noal-sick  brother,  but  so  works  on  the  barbarian  king  Thoas, 

who  would  fain  have  her  for  his  wife,  that  he  wins  a  notable 

victory  over  himself. 

By  the  end  of  his  first  decade  in  Weimar  Goethe  began 
to  feel  that  he  needed  and  had  earned  a  vacation.  His 
conduct  of  the  public  business  had  been  highly  successful, 
but  he  had  starred  his  esthetic  na ;  r  after  all  Weimar 

was  only  a  good-sized  village  th;;  offer  little  to  the 

lover  of  art.     Overwork  had  so  told  upon  him  that  he  was 
unable  to  hold  iterary  project.     He 

had  begun  half  a  dozen  important  works,  but  had  completed 
none  of  them,  i  public  was  beginning  to  suspect  that 

t he  author  of  G  ,ther  was  lost  to  literature.     The 

eifect  of  the  w  —  that  inner  conflict  between 

the  poetic  dreamer  and  the  man  of  affairs  which  is  the 
theme  of  Tasso  —  was  to  produce  a  feeling  of  depression, 
f  a  bird  caught  in  a  net.  So  acute  did  the  trouble 
become  that  he  afterwards  spoke  of  it  as  a  terrible  disease. 
In  the  summer  of  1786  he  contracted  with  the  Leipzig  pub- 
lisher Gb'schen  for  a  new  edition  of  his  works  in  eight 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  11 

volumes;  and  to  gain  time  for  this  enterprise  he  resolved 
to  take  a  trip  to  the  land  upon  which  he  had  already  twice 
looked  down  with  longing  —  once  in  1775  and  again  in 
1779  — from  the  summit  of  the  Gotthard.  On  the  3d  of 
September,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  stole  away 
from  Karlsbad,  where  he  had  been  taking  the  waters,  and 
hurried  southward,  alone  and  incognito,  over  the  Alps. 

In  Italy,  where  he  remained  nearly  two  years,  Goethe's 
mind  and  art  underwent  another  notable  change.  He  him- 
self called  it  a  spiritual  rebirth.  Freed  from  all  oppressive 
engagements,  he  gave  himself  to  the  study  of  ancient  sculp- 
ture and  architecture,  reveled  in  the  splendors  of  Renais- 
sance  painting,  and  pursued  his  botanical  studies  in  the 
enticing  plant-world  of  the  Italian  gardens.  Venice, 
Naples,  Vesuvius,  Sicily,  the  sea,  fascinated  him  in  their 
several  ways  and  gave  him  the  sense  of  being  richer  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  Sharing  in  the  care-free  existence  of 
the  German  artist-colony  in  Rome  made  him  very  happy. 
It  not  only  disciplined  his  judgment  in  matters  of  art  and 
opened  a  vast  new  world  of  ideas  and  impressions,  but 
it  restored  the  lost  balance  between  the  intellectual  and 
duty-bound  man  on  the  one  hand  and  the  esthetic  and 
sensual  man  on  the  other.  He  resolved  never  again  to  put 
on  the  harness  of  an  administrative  drudge,  but  to  claim 
the  freedom  of  a  poet,  an  artist,  a  man  of  science.  To  this 
desire  the  Duke  of  Weimar  generously  assented. 

On  his  return  to  Weimar,  in  June,  1788,  Goethe  made  it 
his  first  task  to  finish  the  remaining  works  that  were  called 
for  by  his  contract  with  Goschen.  Egmont  and  Tasso  were 
soon  disposed  of,  but  Faust  proved  intractable.  While  in 
Rome  he  had  taken  out  the  old  manuscript  and  written  a 
scene  or  two,  and  had  then  somehow  lost  touch  with  the 
subject.  So  he  decided  to  revise  what  he  had  on  hand 
and  to  publish  a  part  of  the  scenes  as  a  fragment.  This 
fragmentary  Faust  came  out  in  1790.  It  attracted  little 
attention,  nor  was  any  other  of  the  new  works  received 
with  much  warmth  by  the  public  of  that  day.  They  expected 


12  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

something  like  Gotz  and  Werther,  and  did  not  understand 
the  new  Goethe,  who  showed  in  many  ways  that  his  heart 
was  still  in  Italy  and  that  he  found  Weimar  a  little  dull 
and  provincial.  Thus  the  greatest  of  German  poets  had 
for  the  time  being  lost  touch  with  the  German  public;  he 
saw  that  he  must  wait  for  the  growth  of  the  taste  by  which 
he  was  to  be  understood  and  enjoyed.  Matters  were  hardly 
made  better  by  his  taking  Christiane  Vulpius  into  his  house 
as  his  unwedded  wife.  This  step,  which  shocked  Weimar 
society — except  the  duke  and  Herder — had  the  effect  of 
ending  his  unwholesome  relation  to  Frau  von  Stein,  who 
was  getting  old  and  peevish.  The  character  of  Christiane 
has  often  been  pictured  too  harshly.  She  was  certainly 
not  her  husband's  intellectual  peer  —  he  would  have  looked 
long  for  a  wife  of  that  grade  —  and  she  became  a  little  too 
fond  of  wine.  On  the  other  hand,  she  was  affectionate, 
devoted,  true,  and  by  no  means  lacking  in  mental  gifts. 
She  and  Goethe  were  happy  together  and  faithful  to  each 
other. 

For  several  years  after  his  return  from  Italy  Goethe 
wrote  nothing  that  is  of  much  importance  in  the  history 
of  his  literary  life.  He  devoted  himself  largely  to  scientific 
studies  in  plant  and  animal  morphology  and  the  theory  of 
color.  His  discovery  of  the  intermaxillary  bone  in  the 
human  skull,  and  his  theory  that  the  lateral  organs  of  a 
plant  are  but  successive  phases  of  the  leaf,  have  given  him 
an  assured  if  modest  place  in  the  history  of  the  develop- 
ment hypothesis.  On  the  other  hand,  his  long  and  labori- 
ous effort  to  refute  Newton's  theory  of  the  composition  of 
white  light  is  now  generally  regarded  as  a  misdirection 
of  energy.  In  his  Roman  Elegies  (1790)  he  struck  a  note 
of  pagan  sensuality.  The  pensive  distichs,  telling  of  the 
wanton  doings  of  Amor  amid  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome, 
were  a  little  shocking  in  their  frank  portraiture  of  the 
emancipated  flesh.  The  outbreak  of  violence  in  France 
seemed  to  him  nothing  but  madness  and  folly,  since  he  did 
not  see  the  real  Revolution,  but  only  the  Paris  Terror. 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  13 

He  wrote  two  or  three  very  ordinary  plays  to  satirize 
various  phases  of  the  revolutionary  excitement  —  phases 
that  now  seem  as  insignificant  as  the  plays  themselves. 
In  1792  he  accompanied  the  Duke  of  Weimar  on  the  inglo- 
rious Austro-Prussian  invasion  of  France,  heard  the  can- 
nonade at  Valmy,  and  was  an  interested  observer  as  the 
allies  tumbled  back  over  the  Rhine.  Perhaps  the  best 
literary  achievement  of  these  years  is  the  fine  hexameter 
version  of  the  medieval  Reynard  the  Fox. 

The  year  1794  marks  the  beginning  of  more  intimate 
relations  between  Goethe  and  Schiller.  Their  memorable 
friendship  lasted  until  Schiller's  death,  in  1805  —  the 
richest  decade  in  the  whole  history  of  German  letters. 
The  two  men  became  in  a  sense  allies  and  stood  together 
in  the  championship  of  good  taste  and  humane  idealism. 
Goethe 's  literary  occupations  during  this  period  were  very 
multifarious;  a  list  of  his  writings  in  the  various  fields  of 
poetry,  drama,  prose  fiction,  criticism,  biography,  art  and 
art-history,  literary  scholarship,  and  half  a  dozen  sciences, 
would  show  a  many-sidedness  to  which  there  is  no  modern 
parallel.  Of  all  this  mass  of  writing  only  a  few  works 
of  major  importance  can  even  be  mentioned  here. 

In  1796  appeared  Wilhelm  Meister's  Apprenticeship,  a 
novel  which  captivated  the  literary  class,  if  not  the  general 
public,  and  was  destined  to  exert  great  influence  on  German 
fiction  for  a  generation  to  come.  It  had  been  some  twenty 
years  in  the  making.  In  its  earlier  form  it  was  called 
Wilhelm  Meister's  Theatrical  Mission*  This  tells  the 
story  of  a  Werther-like  youth  who  is  to  be  saved  from 
Werther's  fate  by  finding  a  work  to  do.  His  "  mission,'* 
apparently,  is  to  become  a  good  actor  and  to  promote  high 
ideals  of  the  histrionic  art.  Incidentally  he  is  ambitious  to 
be  a  dramatic  poet,  and  his  childhood  is  simply  that  of 
Wolfgang  Goethe.  For  reasons  intimately  connected  with 


*  This  earlier  version  was  long  supposed  to  be  lost,  but  in  1910  a  copy  of 
the  original  manuscript  was  discovered  at  ZUrich  and  published.  Its  six 
books  correspond  very  nearly  to  the  first  four  of  the  final  version. 


14  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

his  own  development  Goethe  finally  decided  to  change  his 
plan  and  his  title,  and  to  present  Wilhelm 's  variegated 
experiences  as  an  apprenticeship  in  the  school  of  life. 
In  the  final  version  Wilhelm  comes  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  theatre  is  not  his  mission  —  all  that  was  a  mistaken 
ambition.  Just  what  use  he  will  make  of  his  well-disci- 
plined energy  does  not  clearly  appear  at  the  end  of  the 
story,  since  Goethe  bundles  him  off  to  Italy.  He  was 
already  planning  a  continuation  of  the  story  under  the  title 
of  Wilhelm  Meister's  Journey  manship.  In  this  second 
part  the  hero  becomes  interested  in  questions  of  social 
uplift  and  thinks  of  becoming  a  surgeon.  Taken  as  a 
whole  Wilhelm  Meister  moves  with  a  slowness  which  is 
quite  out  of  tune  with  later  ideals  of  prose  fiction.  It  also 
lacks  concentration  and  artistic  finality.  But  it  is  replete 
with  Goethe's  ripe  and  mellow  wisdom,  and  it  contains 
more  of  his  intimate  self  than  any  other  work  of  his  except 
Faust. 

During  this  high  noon  of  his  life  Goethe  again  took  up 
his  long  neglected  Faust,  decided  to  make  two  parts  of  it, 
completed  the  First  Part,  and  thought  out  much  that  was  to 
go  into  the  Second  Part.  By  this  time  he  had  become  some- 
what alienated  from  the  spirit  of  his  youth,  when  he  had 
envisaged  life  in  a  mist  of  vague  and  stormy  emotionalism. 
His  present  passion  was  for  clearness.  So  he  boldly 
decided  to  convert  the  old  tragedy  of  sin  and  suffering 
into  a  drama  of  mental  clearing-up.  The  early  Faust  — 
the  pessimist,  murderer,  seducer — was  to  be  presented  as 
temporarily  wandering  in  the  dark;  as  a  man  who  had 
gone  grievously  wrong  in  passionate  error,  but  was  essen- 
tially * '  good  ' '  by  virtue  of  his  aspiring  nature,  and  hence, 
in  the  Lord's  fulness  of  time,  was  to  be  led  out  into  the 
light  and  saved.  The  First  Part,  ending  with  the  heart- 
rending death  of  Margaret  in  her  prison-cell,  and  leaving 
Faust  in  an  agony  of  remorse,  was  published  in  1808. 
Faust's  redemption,  by  enlarged  experience  of  life  and 
especially  by  his  symbolic  union  with  the  Greek  Queen  of 
Beauty,  was  reserved  for  the  Second  Part. 


AN  CLASSICS 

to  change  his 

variegated 

-'Cliool  of  life. 

ie  conclusion  that 

t  was  a  mistaken 

•  of  his  well-disci- 

ar  at  the  end  of  the 

c  to  It  Ie  was 

A  story  under  the  title 

hip.      In  this  second 

>i  questions  of  social 

i  surgeon.     Taken  as  a 

1  ith  a  slowness  which  is 

of  prose  fiction.     It  also 

i'nality.     But  it  is  rep 

ripe  and  mellow  wisdom,  and  it  contains 

^•tedlfcntfBinVtd  'itoWHlJ1  of  his  e 

(Berlin  1880) 

bis  life  Goethe  again  took  up 
ted  Fauxi,  decided  to  make  two  parts  of  it, 
t  Part,  and  thought  out  much  that  was  to 
•ond  Part.    By  this  tim<  e  some- 

ted  from  the  spirit  of  hi  had 

>fe  in  a  mist  of  vague  and  sto  sm. 

t  passion  was   for  clearness.  boldly 

T\rert  th  r  of  sin  and  suffering 

iig-up.     The  early  Faust  — 
-was  to  be  presented  as 
warn!  airk;  as  a  man  who  had 

jitsly  wrcjpi  ate  error,  hut  was  essen- 

^ood  M  by  virr  nature,  and  hence, 

•^  led  out  into  the 

•1  savQd.     Th<:  g  with  the  heart- 

.th  of  Mar:  i-cell,  and  leaving 

rH%<jtyaQtr  T  -ablished  in  1808. 

T)tioii,   ;  -ience  of  life  and 

«!  Greek  Queen  of 
wa*  reserved  for  cond  Part. 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  15 

The  other  more  notable  works  of  this  period  are  Her- 
mann and  Dorothea,  a  delightful  poem  in  dactylic  hexa- 
meters, picturing  a  bit  of  German  still  life  against  the 
sinister  background  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  the 
Natural  Daughter,  which  was  planned  to  body  forth,  in  the 
form  of  a  dramatic  trilogy  in  blank  verse,  certain  phases 
of  Goethe  '&  thinking  about  the  upheaval  in  France.  In  the 
former  he  appears  once  more  as  a  poet  of  the  plain  people, 
with  an  eye  and  a  heart  for  their  ways  and  their  outlook 
upon  life.  Everybody  likes  Hermann  and  Dorothea.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Natural  Daughter  is  disappointing,  and 
not  merely  because  it  is  a  fragment.  (Only  the  first  part 
of  the  intended  trilogy  was  written.)  Goethe  had  now 
convinced  himself  that  the  function  of  art  is  to  present  the 
typical.  Accordingly  the  characters  appear  as  types  of 
humanity  divested  of  all  that  is  accidental  or  peculiar 
to  the  individual.  The  most  of  them  have  not  even  a  name. 
The  consequence  is  that,  notwithstanding  the  splendid  verse 
and  the  abounding  wisdom  of  the  speeches,  the  personages 
do  not  seem  to  be  made  of  genuine  human  stuff.  As  a 
great  thinker's  comment  on  the  Revolution  the  Natural 
Daughter  is  almost  negligible. 

The  decade  that  followed  the  death  of  Schiller  was  for 
Germany  a  time  of  terrible  trial,  during  which  Goethe 
pursued  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  as  a  poet  and  man  of 
science.  He  had  little  sympathy  with  the  national  uprising 
against  Napoleon,  whom  he  looked  on  as  the  invincible  sub- 
duer  of  the  hated  Revolution.  From  the  point  of  view 
of  our  modern  nationalism,  which  was  just  then  entering 
on  its  world-transforming  career,  his  conduct  was  unpatri- 
otic. But  let  him  at  least  be  rightly  understood.  It  was 
not  that  he  lacked  sympathy  for  the  German  people,  but 
he  misjudged  and  underestimated  the  new  forces  that  were 
coming  into  play.  As  the  son  of  an  earlier  age  he  could 
only  conceive  a  people's  welfare  as  the  gift  of  a  wise  ruler. 
He  thought  of  politics  as  the  affair  of  the  great.  He 
hated  war  and  all  eruptive  violence,  being  convinced  that 


16  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

good  would  come,  not  by  such  means,  but  by  enlightenment, 
self-control  and  attending  to  one's  work  in  one's  sphere. 
To  the  historian  Luden  he  said  in  1813: 

"  Do  not  believe  that  I  am  indifferent  to  the  great  ideas 
of  freedom,  people,  fatherland.  No!  These  ideas  are  in 
us,  they  are  a  part  of  our  being,  and  no  one  can  cast  them 
from  him.  I  too  have  a  warm  heart  for  Germany.  I  have 
often  felt  bitter  pain  in  thinking  of  the  German  people, 
so  worthy  of  respect  in  some  ways,  so  miserable  on  the 
whole.  A  comparison  of  the  German  people  with  other 
peoples  arouses  painful  emotions  which  I  try  in  every  way 
to  surmount ;  and  in  science  and  art  I  have  found  the  wings 
whereby  I  rise  above  them.  *  *  *  But  the  comfort 
which  these  afford  is  after  all  a  poor  comfort  that  does 
not  compensate  for  the  proud  consciousness  of  belonging 
to  a  great  and  strong  people  that  is  honored  and  feared." 

In  1808  he  published  The  Elective  Affinities,  a  novel  in 
which  the  tragic  effects  of  lawless  passion  invading  the 
marriage  relation  were  set  forth  with  telling  art.  Soon 
after  this  he  began  to  write  a  memoir  of  his  life.  He  was 
now  a  European  celebrity,  the  dream  of  his  youth  had 
come  true,  and  he  purposed  to  show  in  detail  how  every- 
thing had  happened;  that  is,  how  his  literary  personality 
had  evolved  amid  the  environing  conditions.  He  conceived 
himself  as  a  phenomenon  to  be  explained.  That  he  called 
his  memoir  Poetry  and  Truth  was  perhaps  an  error  of 
judgment,  since  the  title  has  been  widely  misunderstood. 
For  Goethe  poetry  was  not  the  antithesis  of  truth,  but  a 
higher  species  of  truth — the  actuality  as  seen  by  the 
selecting,  combining,  and  harmonizing  imagination.  In 
themselves,  he  would  have  said,  the  facts  of  a  man's  life 
are  meaningless,  chaotic,  discordant:  it  is  the  poet's 
office  to  put  them  into  the  crucible  of  his  spirit  and  give 
them  forth  as  a  significant  and  harmonious  whole.  The 
'  *  poetry  ' '  of  Goethe 's  autobiography  —  by  far  the  best 
of  autobiographies  in  the  German  language  —  must  not  be 
taken  to  imply  concealment,  perversion,  substitution,  or 


gnxHHBHSElSSBBBBBHHBBBBHBSBnffl 


GOETHE'S  MONUMENT  IN  ROME 

(SCULPTOR,  EBERLEIN) 

Presented  to  the  City  of  Rome  by  the  German  Emperor 
(From   Seidel's  Der  Kaiser  und  die  Kunst) 


THE  LIFE  OF  GOETHE  17 

anything  of  that  gross  kind.  It  lies  in  the  very  style  of 
the  book  and  is  a  part  of  its  author's  method  of  self -revela- 
tion. That  he  devotes  so  much  space  to  the  seemingly 
transient  and  unimportant  love-affairs  of  his  youth  is  only 
his  way  of  recognizing  that  the  poet-soul  is  born  of  love 
and  nourished  by  love.  He  felt  that  these  fleeting  amorosi- 
ties  were  a  part  of  the  natural  history  of  his  inner  being. 

And  even  in  the  serene  afternoon  of  his  life  lovely  woman 
often  disturbed  his  soul,  just  as  in  the  days  of  his  youth. 
But  the  poetic  expression  of  his  feeling  gradually  became 
less  simple  and  direct :  he  liked  to  embroider  it  with  musing 
reflections  and  exotic  fancies  gathered  from  everywhere. 
Just  as  he  endeavored  with  indefatigable  eagerness  of  mind 
to  keep  abreast  of  scientific  research,  so  he  tried  to  assim- 
ilate the  poetry  of  all  nations.  The  Greeks  and  Romans 
no  longer  sufficed  his  omnivorous  appetite  and  his  "  pano- 
ramic ability."  When  Hammer-PurgstalPs  German  ver- 
sion of  the  Dlwdn  of  Hafiz  came  into  his  hands  he  at  once 
set  about  making  himself  at  home  in  the  mental  world  of 
the  Persian  and  Arabic  poets.  Thus  arose  his  Divan 
(1819),  in  which  he  imitated  the  oriental  costume,  but  not 
the  form.  His  aim  was  to  reproduce  in  German  verse  the 
peculiar  savor  of  the  Orientals,  with  their  unique  blend  of 
sensuality,  wit,  and  mystic  philosophy.  But  the  feeling  — 
the  inner  experience  —  was  all  his  own.  The  best  book 
of  the  Divan,  the  one  called  Suleika,  was  inspired  by  a 
very  real  liking  for  Marianne  Willemer,  a  talented  lady 
who  played  the  love-game  with  him  and  actually  wrote 
some  of  the  poems  long  ascribed  to  Goethe  himself. 

At  last,  in  1824,  when  he  was  seventy-five  years  old,  he 
came  back  once  more  to  his  Faust,  the  completion  of  which 
had  long  floated  before  his  mind  as  a  duty  that  he  owed 
to  himself  and  to  the  world.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt 
as  to  what  his  great  life-work  was  to  be.  With  admirable 
energy  and  with  perfect  clarity  of  vision  he  addressed 
himself  to  the  gigantic  task,  the  general  plan  of  which  and 
many  of  the  details  had  been  thought  out  long  before. 
VOL.  1  —  2 


18  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

It  was  finished  in  the  summer  of  1831.  About  sixty  years 
after  he  had  penned  the  first  words  of  Faust,  the  dis- 
gruntled pessimist  at  war  with  life,  he  took  leave  of  him 
as  a  purified  soul  mounting  upward  among  the  saints 
toward  the  Ineffable  Light,  under  the  mystic  guidance  of 
the  Eternal- Womanly. 

Goethe  died  March  18,  1832.  The  story  that  his  last 
words  were  "  more  light "  is  probably  nothing  more  than 
a  happy  invention. 

Admirers  of  the  great  German  see  more  in  him  than  the 
author  of  the  various  works  which  have  been  all  too  briefly 
characterized  in  the  preceding  sketch.  His  is  a  case  where, 
in  very  truth,  the  whole  is  more  than  the  sum  of  the  parts. 
Goethe  is  the  representative  of  an  epoch.  He  stands  for 
certain  ideals  which  are  not  those  of  the  present  hour,  but 
which  it  was  of  inestimable  value  to  the  modern  man  to 
have  thus  nobly  worked  out  and  exemplified  in  practice. 
Behind  and  beneath  his  writings,  informing  them  and  giv- 
ing them  their  value  for  posterity,  is  a  wonderful  person- 
ality which  it  is  a  delight  and  an  education  to  study  in  the 
whole  process  of  its  evolution.  By  way  of  struggle,  pain 
and  error,  like  his  own  Faust,  he  arrived  at  a  view  of 
life,  in  which  he  found  inspiration  and  inner  peace.  It  is 
outlined  in  the  verses  which  he  placed  before  his  short 
poems  as  a  sort  of  motto: 

Wide  horizon,  eager  life, 
Busy  years  of  honest  strife, 
Ever  seeking,  ever  founding, 
Never  ending,  ever  rounding, 
Guarding  tenderly  the  old, 
Taking  of  the  new  glad  hold, 
Pure  in  purpose,  light  of  heart, 
Thus  we  gain  —  at  least  a  start. 


POEMS 


20  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

GREETING  AND  DEPARTURE*  (1771) 

j_«grman_=TY  heart  throbbed  high:  to  horse,  away  then! 

Swift  as  a  hero  to  the  fight ! 
Earth  in  the  arms  of  evening  lay  then, 

And  o'er  the  mountains  hung  the  night, 
Now  could  I  see  like  some  huge  giant 

The  haze-enveloped  oak-tree  rise, 
While  from  the  thicket  stared  defiant 
The  darkness  with  its  hundred  eyes. 

The  cloud-throned  moon  from  his  dominion 

Peered  drowsily  through  veils  of  mist. 
The  wind  with  gently-wafting  pinion 

Gave  forth  a  rustling  strange  and  whist. 
With  shapes  of  fear  the  night  was  thronging 

But  all  the  more  my  courage  glowed; 
My  soul  flamed  up  in  passionate  longing 

And  hot  my  heart  with  rapture  flowed. 

I  saw  thee;  melting  rays  of  pleasure 

Streamed  o  'er  me  from  thy  tender  glance, 
My  heart  beat  only  to  thy  measure, 

I  drew  my  breath  'as  in  a  trance. 
The  radiant  hue  of  spring  caressing 

Lay  rosy  on  thy  upturned  face, 
And  love  —  ye  gods,  how  rich  the  blessing! 

I  dared  not  hope  to  win  such  grace. 

To  part  —  alas  what  grief  in  this  is !  — 

In  every  look  thy  heart  spoke  plain. 
What  ecstasy  was  in  thy  kisses! 

What  changing  thrill  of  joy  and  pain! 

I  went.    One  solace  yet  to  capture, 

Thine  eyes  pursued  in  sweet  distress. 
But  to  be  loved,  what  holy  rapture ! 

To  love,  ah  gods,  what  happiness ! 


*  Translator :    Charles  Wharton  Stork. 


Deutsche  Verlags-Anstalt,  Stuttgart 

THE  HEATHROSE 


K.  KOGLEB 


POEMS  21 

THE  HEATHROSE*  (1771) 
ONCE  a  boy  a  Bosebud  spied, 

Heathrose  fair  and  tender, 
All  array  'd  in  youthful  pride, — 
Quickly  to  the  spot  he  hied, 

Ravished  by  her  splendor. 
Eosebud,  rosebud,  rosebud  red, 

Heathrose  fair  and  tender! 
Said  the  boy,  "I'll  now  pick  thee 

Heathrose  fair  and  tender ! ' ' 
Eosebud  cried  "And  I'll  prick  thee, 
So  thou  shalt  remember  me, 

Ne'er  will  I  surrender!  " 
Eosebud,  rosebud,  rosebud  red, 

Heathrose  fair  and  tender! 
But  the  wanton  plucked  the  rose, 

Heathrose  fair  and  tender; 
Thorns  the  cruel  theft  oppose, 
Brief  the  struggle  and  vain  the  woes, 

She  must  needs  surrender. 
Eosebud,  rosebud,  rosebud  red, 

Heathrose  fair  and  tender! 

MAHOMET'S  SONGt  (1773) 

[This  song  was  intended  to  be  introduced  in  a  dramatic  poem  entitled 
Mahomet,  the  plan  of  which  was  not  carried  out  by  Goethe.  He  mentions 
that  it  was  to  have  been  sung  by  Ali  toward  the  end  of  the  piece,  in  honor 
of  his  master,  Mahomet,  shortly  before  his  death,  and  when  at  the  height 
of  his  glory,  of  which  it  is  typical.] 

SEE  the  rock-born  stream  I 

Like  the  gleam 

Of  a  star  so  bright ! 

Kindly  spirits 

High  above  the  clouds 

Nourished  him  while  youthful 

In  the  copse  between  the  cliffs. 

'Adapted  from    E.  A.  Bowring. 

t Translator:  E.  A.  Bowring.  (All  poems  in  this  section  translated  by 
E.  A.  Bowring,  W.  E.  Aytoun  and  Theodore  'Martin  appear  by  permission  of 
Thomas  Y.  Crowell  &  Co.) 


22  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Young  and  fresh, 
From  the  clouds  he  danceth 
Down  upon  the  marble  rocks; 
Then  tow'rd  heaven 
Leaps  exulting. 

Through  the  mountain-passes 
Chaseth  he  the  color 'd  pebbles, 
And,  advancing  like  a  chief, 
Draws  his  brother  streamlets  with  him 
In  his  course. 

In  the  vale  below 

'Neath  his  footsteps  spring  the  flowers, 

And  the  meadow 

In  his  breath  finds  life. 

Yet  no  shady  vale  can  stay  him, 

Nor  can  flowers, 

Round  his  knees  all  softly  twining 

With  their  loving  eyes  detain  him; 

To  the  plain  his  course  he  taketh, 

Serpent-winding. 

Eager  streamlets 

Join  his  waters.     And  now  moves  he 

O'er  the  plain  in  silv'ry  glory, 

And  the  plain  in  him  exults, 

And  the  rivers  from  the  plain, 

And  the  streamlets  from  the  mountain, 

Shout  with  joy,  exclaiming:     "Brother, 

Brother,  take  thy  brethren  with  thee. 

With  thee  to  thine  aged  father, 

To  the  everlasting  ocean, 

Who,  with  arms  outstretching  far, 

Waiteth  for  us; 

Ah,  in  vain  those  arms  lie  open 

To  embrace  his  yearning  children ; 

For  the  thirsty  sand  consumes  us 


POEMS  23 

In  the  desert  waste;  the  sunbeams 
Drink  our  life-blood;  hills  around  us 
Into  lakes  would  dam  us!     Brother, 
Take  thy  brethren  of  the  plain, 
Take  thy  brethren  of  the  mountain 
With  thee,  to  thy  father's  arms  I"  — 

Let  all  come,  then!  — 

And  now  swells  he 

Lordlier  still;  yea,  e'en  a  people 

Bears  his  regal  flood  on  high! 

And  in  triumph  onward  rolling, 

Names  to  countries  gives  he, —  cities 

Spring  to  light  beneath  his  foot. 

Ever,  ever,  on  he  rushes, 

Leaves  the  towers'  flame-tipp'd  summits, 

Marble  palaces,  the  offspring 

Of  his  fulness,  far  behind. 

Cedar-houses  bears  the  Atlas 
On  his  giant  shoulders;  flutt'ring 
In  the  breeze  far,  far  above  him 
Thousand  flags  are  gaily  floating, 
Bearing  witness  to  his  might. 

And  so  beareth  he  his  brethren, 
All  his  treasures,  all  his  children, 
Wildly  shouting,  to  the  bosom 
Of  his  long-expectant  sire. 

PROMETHEUS*  (1774) 

COVER  thy  spacious  heavens,  Zeus, 

With  clouds  of  mist, 

And,  like  the  boy  who  lops 

The  thistles'  heads, 

Disport  with  oaks  and  mountain-peaks ; 

Yet  thou  must  leave 


Translator:    E.  A.  Bowring. 


24  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

My  earth  still  standing; 

My  cottage  too,  which  was  not  raised  by  thee, 

Leave  me  my  hearth, 

Whose  kindly  glow 

By  thee  is  envied. 

I  know  nought  poorer 

Under  the  sun,  than  ye  gods  I 

Ye  nourish  painfully, 

"With  sacrifices 

And  votive  prayers, 

Your  majesty; 

Ye  would  e'en  starve, 

If  children  and  beggars 

Were  not  trusting  fools. 

While  yet  a  child, 

And  ignorant  of  life, 

I  turned  my  wandering  gaze 

Up  tow'rd  the  sun,  as  if  with  him 

There  were  an  ear  to  hear  my  wailing, 

A  heart,  like  mine 

To  feel  compassion  for  distress. 

Who  help'd  me 

Against  the  Titans'  insolence! 

Who  rescued  me  from  certain  death, 

From  slavery? 

Didst  thou  not  do  all  this  thyself, 

My  sacred  glowing  heart? 

And  glowedst,  young  and  good, 

Deceived  with  grateful  thanks 

To  yonder  slumbering  one? 

I  honor  thee!  and  why? 

Hast  thou  e'er  lighten 'd  the  sorrows 

Of  the  heavy  laden? 

Hast  thou  e'er  dried  up  the  tears 


I 


\ 

33 

^  E 


POEMS  25 

Of  the  anguish-stricken  t 

Was  I  not  fashion  'd  to  be  a  man 

By  omnipotent  Time, 

And  by  eternal  Fate, 

Masters  of  me  and  thee? 

Didst  thou  e'er  fancy 

That  life  I  should  learn  to  hate, 

And  fly  to  deserts, 

Because  not  all 

My  blossoming  dreams  grew  ripeT 

Here  sit  I,  forming  mortals 

After  my  image; 

A  race  resembling  me, 

To  suffer,  to  weep, 

To  enjoy,  to  be  glad, 

And  thee  to  scorn, 

As  I! 

THE  WANDERER'S  NIGHT-SONG*  (1776) 

THOU  who  comest  from  on  high, 

Who  all  woes  and  sorrows  stillest, 
Who,  for  twofold  misery, 

Hearts  with  twofold  balsam  fillest, 
Would  this  constant  strife  would  cease ! 

What  avails  the  joy  and  pain! 
Blissful  Peace, 

To  my  bosom  come  again! 

THE  SEA-VOYAGE  t  (1776) 
MANY  a  day  and  night  my  bark  stood  ready  laden ; 
Waiting  fav'ring  winds,  I  sat  with  true  friends  round  me, 
Pledging  me  to  patience  and  to  courage, 
In  the  haven. 

And  they  spoke  thus  with  impatience  twofold : 
Gladly  pray  we  for  thy  rapid  passage, 


*  Adapted  from  E.  A.  Bowring. 
t  Translator :    E.  A.  Bowring. 


26  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Gladly  for  thy  happy  voyage;  fortune 

In  the  distant  world  is  waiting  for  thee, 

In  our  arms  thou'lt  find  thy  prize,  and  love  too, 

When  returning." 

And  when  morning  came,  arose  an  uproar 
And  the  sailors'  joyous  shouts  awoke  us; 
All  was  stirring,  all  was  living,  moving, 
Bent  on  sailing  with  the  first  kind  zephyr. 

And  the  sails  soon  in  the  breeze  are  swelling, 

And  the  sun  with  fiery  love  invites  us; 

Fill'd  the  sails  are,  clouds  on  high  are  floating, 

On  the  shore  each  friend  exulting  raises 

Songs  of  hope,  in  giddy  joy  expecting 

Joy  the  voyage  through,  as  on  the  morn  of  sailing, 

And  the  earliest  starry  nights  so  radiant. 

But  by  God-sent  changing  winds  ere  long  he 's  driven 

Sideways  from  the  course  he  had  intended, 

And  he  feigns  as  though  he  would  surrender, 

While  he  gently  striveth  to  outwit  them, 

To  his  goal,  e'en  when  thus  press 'd,  still  faithful. 

But  from  out  the  damp  gray  distance  rising, 
Softly  now  the  storm  proclaims  its  advent, 
Presseth  down  each  bird  upon  the  waters, 
Presseth  down  the  throbbing  hearts  of  mortals. 
And  it  cometh.     At  its  stubborn  fury, 
Wisely  ev'ry  sail  the  seaman  striketh; 
With  the  anguish-laden  ball  are  sporting 
Wind  and  water. 

And  on  yonder  shore  are  gather 'd  standing, 
Friends  and  lovers,  trembling  for  the  bold  one : 
"  Why,  alas,  remain 'd  he  here  not  with  us! 
Ah,  the  tempest !    Cast  away  by  fortune ! 
Must  the  good  one  perish  in  this  fashion! 
Might  not  he  perchance   *   *   *.    Ye  great  immortals!" 


POEMS  27 

Yet  he,  like  a  man,  stands  by  his  rudder; 
With  the  bark  are  sporting  wind  and  water, 
Wind  and  water  sport  not  with  his  bosom: 
On  the  fierce  deep  looks  he,  as  a  master, — 
In  his  gods,  or  shipwreck  'd,  or  safe  landed, 
Trusting  ever. 

TO  THE  MOON*  (1778) 

BUSH  and  vale  thou  fill'st  again 

With  thy  misty  ray, 
And  my  spirit's  heavy  chain 

Casteth  far  away. 

Thou  dost  o'er  my  fields  extend 

Thy  sweet  soothing  eye, 
Watching  like  a  gentle  friend, 

O'er  my  destiny. 

Vanish 'd  days  of  bliss  and  woe 

Haunt  me  with  their  tone, 
Joy  and  grief  in  turns  I  know, 

As  I  stray  alone. 

Stream  beloved,  flow  on!  flow  on! 

Ne'er  can  I  be  gay! 
Thus  have  sport  and  kisses  gone, 

Truth  thus  pass'd  away. 

Once  I  seem'd  the  lord  to  be 

Of  that  prize  so  fair ! 
Now,  to  our  deep  sorrow,  we 

Can  forget  it  ne'er. 

Murmur,  stream,  the  vale  along, 

Never  cease  thy  sighs; 
Murmur,  whisper  to  my  song 

Answering  melodies ! 


Translator:    E.  A.  Bowring. 


28  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

When  thou  in  the  winter's  night 

Overflow 'st  in  wrath, 
Or  in  spring-time  sparkiest  bright, 

As  the  buds  shoot  forth. 

He  who  from  the  world  retires, 

Void  of  hate,  is  blest ; 
Who  a  friend's  true  love  inspires, 

Leaning  on  his  breast! 

That  which  heedless  man  ne'er  knew, 
Or  ne'er  thought  aright, 

Eoams  the  bosom 's  labyrinth  through, 
Boldly  into  night. 

THE  FISHERMAN*  (1778) 

THE  waters  rush'd,  the  waters  rose, 

A  fisherman  sat  by, 
While  on  his  line  in  calm  repose 

He  cast  his  patient  eye. 
And  as  he  sat,  and  hearken 'd  there, 

The  flood  was  cleft  in  twain, 
And,  lo !  a  dripping  mermaid  fair 

Sprang  from  the  troubled  main. 

She  sang  to  him,  and  spake  the  while: 

11  Why  lurest  thou  my  brood, 
With  human  wit  and  human  guile 

From  out  their  native  flood? 
Oh,  couldst  thou  know  how  gladly  dart 

The  fish  across  the  sea, 
Thou  wouldst  descend,  e'en  as  thou  art, 

And  truly  happy  be! 

Do  not  the  sun  and  moon  with  grace 

Their  forms  in  ocean  lave? 
Shines  not  with  twofold  charms  their  face, 

When  rising  from  the  wave? 


*  Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 


Copyright  Photographische  Gesellschaft 
Permission  Berlin  Photo.  Co.,  New  York 


GEORO  PAPPERITX 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  THE  MERMAID 


POEMS  29 

The  deep,  deep  heavens,  then  lure  thee  not, — 

The  moist  yet  radiant  blue, — 
Not  thine  own  form, —  to  tempt  thy  lot 

'Midst  this  eternal  dew!" 

The  waters  rush'd,  the  waters  rose, 

"Wetting  his  naked  feet; 
As  if  his  true  love's  words  were  those, 

His  heart  with  longing  beat. 
She  sang  to  him,  to  him  spake  she, 

His  doom  was  fix'd,  I  ween; 
Half  drew  she  him,  and  half  sank  he, 

And  ne'er  again  was  seen. 

THE  WANDERER'S  NIGHT-SONG*  (1780) 

[Written  at  night  on  the  Kickelhahn,  a  hill  in  the  forest  of  Ilmenau,  on 
the  walls  of  a  little  hermitage  where  Goethe  composed  the  last  act  of  his 
Iphigenie.] 

HUSH'D  on  the  hill 

Is  the  breeze; 
Scarce  by  the  zephyr 

The  trees 

Softly  are  press 'd; 
The  woodbird's  asleep  on  the  bough. 
Wait,  then,  and  thou 
Soon  wilt  find  rest. 

THE  ERL-KING*  (1782) 

WHO  rides  there  so  late  through  the  night  dark  and  drear  f 
The  father  it  is,  with  his  infant  so  dear ; 
He  holdeth  the  boy  tightly  clasp 'd  in  his  arm, 
He  holdeth  him  safely,  he  keepeth  him  warm. 

"  My  son,  wherefore  seek's  thou  thy  face  thus  to  hide?" 
"  Look,  father,  the  Erl-King  is  close  by  our  side  I 

Dost  see  not  the  Erl-King,  with  crown  and  with  train!" 
"  My  son,  'tis  the  mist  rising  over  the  plain." 

*  Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 


30  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

' '  Oh  come,  thou  dear  infant !  oh  come  thou  with  me  I 
Full  many  a  game  I  will  play  there  with  thee ; 
On  my  strand,  lovely  flowers  their  blossoms  unfold, 
My  mother  shall  grace  thee  with  garments  of  gold. ' ' 

"  My  father,  my  father,  and  dost  thou  not  hear 

The  words  that  the  Erl-King  now  breathes  in  mine  ear?'* 

"  Be  calm,  dearest  child,  'tis  thy  fancy  deceives; 

'Tis  the   sad  wind  that  sighs  through  the  withering 
leaves. ' ' 

"  Wilt  go,  then,  dear  infant,  wilt  go  with  me  there  t 
My  daughters  shall  tend  thee  with  sisterly  care; 
My  daughters  by  night  their  glad  festival  keep, 
They'll  dance  thee,  and  rock  thee,  and  sing  thee  to  sleep." 

' '  My  father,  my  father,  and  dost  thou  not  see, 
How  the  Erl-King  his  daughters  has  brought  here  for 
me?" 

' '  My  darling,  my  darling,  I  see  it  aright, 

'Tis  the  aged  gray  willows  deceiving  thy  sight. ' ' 

"  I  love  thee,  I'm  charm 'd  by  thy  beauty,  dear  boy! 

And  if  thou'rt  unwilling,  then  force  I'll  employ." 
"  My  father,  my  father,  he  seizes  me  fast, 

Full  sorely  the  Erl-King  has  hurt  me  at  last. ' ' 

The  father  now  gallops,  with  terror  half  wild, 
He  grasps  in  his  arms  the  poor  shuddering  child ; 
He  reaches  his  courtyard  with  toil  and  with  dread, — 
The  child  in  his  arms  finds  he  motionless,  dead. 

THE  GODLIKE*  (1783) 

NOBLE  be  man, 
Helpful  and  good! 
For  that  alone 
Distinguisheth  him 
From  all  the  beings 
Unto  us  known. 


*  Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 


POEMS  31 

Hail  to  the  beings, 
Unknown  and  glorious, 
Whom  we  forebode ! 
From  his  example 
Learn  we  to  know  them  1 

For  unfeeling 

Nature  is  ever: 

On  bad  and  on  good 

The  sun  alike  shineth; 

And  on  the  wicked, 

As  on  the  best, 

The  moon  and  stars  gleam. 

Tempest  and  torrent, 
Thunder  and  hail, 
Roar  on  their  path, 
Seizing  the  while, 
As  they  haste  onward, 
One  after  another. 

Even  so,  fortune 
Gropes  'mid  the  throng  — 
Innocent  boyhood 's 
Curly  head  seizing, — 
Seizing  the  hoary 
Head  of  the  sinner. 

After  laws  mighty, 
Brazen,  eternal, 
Must  all  we  mortals 
Finish  the  circuit 
Of  our  existence. 

Man,  and  man  only 
Can  do  the  impossible 
He  'tis  distinguisheth, 
Chooseth  and  judgeth; 
He  to  the  moment 
Endurance  can  lend. 


32  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

He  and  he  only 
The  good  can  reward, 
The  bad  can  he  punish, 
Can  heal  and  can  save ; 
All  that  wanders  and  strays 
Can  usefully  blend. 

And  we  pay  homage 
To  the  immortals 
As  though  they  were  men, 
And  did  in  the  great, 
What  the  best,  in  the  small, 
Does  or  might  do. 

Be  the  man  that  is  noble, 
Both  helpful  and  good, 
Unweariedly  forming 
The  right  and  the  useful, 
A  type  of  those  beings 
Our  mind  hath  foreshadow'd! 

MIGNON*  (1785) 

[This  universally  known  poem  is  also  to  be  found  in  Wilhelm  Meister.] 
KNOW'ST  thou  the  land  where  the  fair  citron  blows, 
Where  the  bright  orange  midst  the  foliage  glows, 
Where  soft  winds  greet  us  from  the  azure  skies, 
Where  silent  myrtles,  stately  laurels  rise, 
Know'st  thou  it  well? 

'Tis  there,  'tis  there, 
That  I  with  thee,  beloved  one,  would  repair. 

Know'st  thou  the  house?    On  columns  rests  its  pile, 
Its  halls  are  gleaming,  and  its  chambers  smile, 
And  marble  statues  stand  and  gaze  on  me : 
"  Poor  child!  what  sorrow  hath  befallen  thee?" 
Know'st  thou  it  well? 

'Tis  there,  'tis  there, 
That  I  with  thee,  protector,  would  repair ! 


'Translator:     E.  A.  Bowring. 


POEMS  33 

Know'st  thou  the  mountain,  and  its  cloudy  bridge? 
The  mule  can  scarcely  find  the  misty  ridge ; 
In  caverns  dwells  the  dragon's  olden  brood, 
The  frowning  crag  obstructs  the  raging  flood. 
Know'st  thou  it  well? 

'Tis  there,  'tis  there, 
Our  path  lies  —  Father  —  thither,  oh  repair ! 

PROXIMITY  OF  THE  BELOVED  ONE*  (1795) 

I  THINK  of  thee,  whene  'er  the  sun  his  beams 

0  'er  ocean  flings ; 

I  think  of  thee,  whene  'er  the  moonlight  gleams 
In  silv'ry  springs. 

I  see  thee,  when  upon  the  distant  ridge 

The  dust  awakes; 
At  midnight's  hour,  when  on  the  fragile  bridge 

The  wanderer  quakes. 

I  hear  thee,  when  yon  billows  rise  on  high, 

With  murmur  deep. 
To  tread  the  silent  grove  oft  wander  I, 

When  all's  asleep. 
I'm  near  thee,  though  thou  far  away  mayst  be  — 

Thou,  too,  art  near ! 
The  sun  then  sets,  the  stars  soon  lighten  me, 

Would  thou  wert  here ! 

THE  SHEPHERD'S  LAMENT  t  (1802) 

UP  yonder  on  the  mountain, 

1  dwelt  for  days  together; 
Looked  down  into  the  valley, 

This  pleasant  summer  weather. 
My  sheep  go  feeding  onward, 

My  dog  sits  watching  by; 
I've  wandered  to  the  valley, 

And  yet  I  know  not  why. 


*  Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 

t  Translator :   W.  E.  Aytoun  and  Theodore  Martin. 

VOL.  1  —  3 


34  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

The  meadow,  it  is  pretty, 
With  flowers  so  fair  to  see; 

I  gather  them,  but  no  one 
Will  take  the  flowers  from  me. 

The  good  tree  gives  me  shadow, 
And  shelter  from  the  rain; 

But  yonder  door  is  silent, 
It  will  not  ope  again ! 

I  see  the  rainbow  bending, 
Above  her  old  abode, 

But  she  is  there  no  longer; 
They've  taken  my  love  abroad. 

They  took  her  o'er  the  mountains, 
They  took  her  o'er  the  sea; 

Move  on,  move  on,  my  bonny  sheep, 
There  is  no  rest  for  me! 


NATURE  AND  ART*  (1802) 

NATURE  and  art  asunder  seem  to  fly, 

Yet  sooner  than  we  think  find  common  ground ; 

In  place  of  strife,  harmonious  songs  resound, 
And  both,  at  one,  to  my  abode  draw  nigh. 
In  sooth  but  one  endeavor  I  descry: 

Then  only,  when  in  ordered  moments '  round 

Wisdom  and  toil  our  lives  to  Art  have  bound, 
Dare  we  rejoice  in  Nature's  liberty. 
Thus  is  achievement  fashioned  everywhere: 

Not  by  ungovernable,  hasty  zeal 

Shalt  thou  the  height  of  perfect  form  attain. 
Husband  thy  strength,  if  great  emprize  thou  dare; 

In  self-restraint  thy  masterhood  reveal, 
And  under  law  thy  perfect  freedom  gain. 


*  Translator :     A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman. 


POEMS  35 

COMFORT  IN  TEARS*  (1803) 

How  is  it  that  them  art  so  sad 

When  others  are  so  gay! 
Thou  hast  been  weeping  —  nay,  thou  hast! 

Thine  eyes  the  truth  betray. 

"And  if  I  may  not  choose  but  weep 

Is  not  my  grief  mine  own? 
No  heart  was  heavier  yet  for  tears  — 
0  leave  me,  friend,  alone!  " 

Come  join  this  once  the  merry  band, 

They  call  aloud  for  thee, 
And  mourn  no  more  for  what  is  lost, 

But  let  the  past  go  free. 

"  0,  little  know  ye  in  your  mirth, 

What  wrings  my  heart  so  deep ! 
I  have  not  lost  the  idol  yet, 
For  which  I  sigh  and  weep." 

Then  rouse  thee  and  take  heart !  thy  blood 

Is  young  and  full  of  fire ; 
Youth  should  have  hope  and  might  to  win, 

And  wear  its  best  desire. 

"  0,  never  may  I  hope  to  gain 

What  dwells  from  me  so  far; 
It  stands  as  high,  it  looks  as  bright, 
As  yonder  burning  star." 

Why,  who  would  seek  to  woo  the  stars 

Down  from  their  glorious  sphere! 
Enough  it  is  to  worship  them, 

When  nights  are  calm  and  clear. 

"  Oh,  I  look  up  and  worship  too  — 

My  star  it  shines  by  day  — 
Then  let  me  weep  the  livelong  night 
The  while  it  is  away." 


Translator*:     W.  E.  Aytoun  and  Theodore  Martin. 


36  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

EPILOGUE  TO  SCHILLER'S  "SONG  OF  THE 

BELL"* 

[This  fine  piece,  written  originally  in  1805,  on  Schiller's  death,  was 
altered  and  recast  by  Goethe  in  1815,  on  the  occasion  of  the  performance 
on  the  stage  of  the  Song  of  the  Bell.  Hence  the  allusion  in  the  last  verse.] 

To  this  city  joy  reveal  it! 
Peace  as  its  first  signal  peal  it! 

(Song  of  the  Bell  —  concluding  lines). 

AND  so  it  proved !    The  nation  felt,  ere  long, 

That  peaceful  signal,  and,  with  blessings  fraught, 

A  new-born  joy  appeared ;  in  gladsome  song 
To  hail  the  youthful  princely  pair  we  sought; 

While  in  the  living,  ever-swelling  throng 

Mingled  the  crowds  from  every  region  brought, 

And  on  the  stage,  in  festal  pomp  arrayed, 

The  HOMAGE  OF  THE  ARTS!  we  saw  displayed. 

When,  lo !  a  fearful  midnight  sound  I  hear, 
That  with  a  dull  and  mournful  echo  rings. 

And  can  it  be  that  of  our  friend  so  dear 

It  tells,  to  whom  each  wish  so  fondly  clings? 

Shall  death  o'ercome  a  life  that  all  revere? 
How  such  a  loss  to  all  confusion  brings ! 

How  such  a  parting  we  must  ever  rue ! 

The  world  is  weeping  —  shall  not  we  weep,  too? 

He  was  our  own !    How  social,  yet  how  great 
Seemed  in  the  light  of  day  his  noble  mind ! 

How  was  his  nature,  pleasing  yet  sedate, 
Now  for  glad  converse  joyously  inclined, 

Then  swiftly  changing,  spirit-fraught  elate, 
Life's  plan  with  deep-felt  meaning  it  designed, 

Fruitful  alike  in  counsel  and  in  deed  I 

This  have  we  proved,  this  tested,  in  our  need. 


*  Translators :     W.  E.  Aytoun   and  Theodpre  Martin. 

t  The  title  of  a  lyric  piece  composed  by  Schiller  in  honor  of  the  marriage 
of  the  hereditary  prince  of  Weimar  to  the  Princess  Maria  of  Russia,  and 
performed  in  1804. 


POEMS  37 

He  was  our  own !    0  may  that  thought  so  blest 
0  'ercome  the  voice  of  wailing  and  of  woe ! 

He  might  have  sought  the  Lasting,  safe  at  rest 
In  harbor,  when  the  tempest  ceased  to  blow. 

Meanwhile  his  mighty  spirit  onward  pressed 
Where  goodness,  beauty,  truth,  forever  grow; 

And  in  his  rear,  in  shadowy  outline,  lay 

The  vulgar,  which  we  all,  alas,  obey  1 

Now  doth  he  deck  the  garden-turret  fair 
Where  the  stars'  language  first  illumed  his  soul, 

As  secretly  yet  clearly  through  the  air 
On  the  eterne,  the  living  sense  it  stole; 

And  to  his  own,  and  our  great  profit,  there 
Exchangeth  to  the  seasons  as  they  roll ; 

Thus  nobly  doth  he  vanquish,  with  renown, 

The  twilight  and  the  night  that  weigh  us  down. 

Brighter  now  glowed  his  cheek,  and  still  more  bright, 
With  that  unchanging,  ever-youthful  glow, — 

That  courage  which  overcomes,  in  hard-fought  fight, 
Sooner  or  later,  every  earthly  foe, — 

That  faith  which,  soaring  to  the  realms  of  light, 
Now  boldly  presseth  on,  now  bendeth  low, 

So  that  the  good  may  work,  wax,  thrive  amain, 

So  that  the  day  the  noble  may  attain. 

Yet,  though  so  skilled,  of  such  transcendent  worth, 
This  boarded  scaffold  doth  he  not  despise; 

The  fate  that  on  its  axis  turns  the  earth 
From  day  to  night,  here  shows  he  to  our  eyes, 

Raising,  through  many  a  work  of  glorious  birth, 
Art  and  the  artist's  fame  up  toward  the  skies. 

He  fills  with  blossoms  of  the  noblest  strife, 

With  life  itself,  this  effigy  of  life. 


38  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

His  giant-step,  as  ye  full  surely  know, 
Measured  the  circle  of  the  will  and  deed, 

Each  country's  changing  thoughts  and  morals,  too, 
The  darksome  book  with  clearness  could  he  read ; 

Yet  how  he,  breathless  'midst  his  friends  so  true, 
Despaired  in  sorrow,  scarce  from  pain  was  freed, — 

All  this  have  we,  in  sadly  happy  years, 

For  he  was  ours,  bewailed  with  feeling  tears. 

When  from  the  agonizing  weight  of  grief 
He  raised  his  eyes  upon  the  world  again, 

We  showed  him  how  his  thoughts  might  find  relief 
From  the  uncertain  present's  heavy  chain, 

Gave  his  fresh-kindled  mind  a  respite  brief, 
With  kindly  skill  beguiling  every  pain, 

And  e'en  at  eve  when  setting  was  his  sun, 

From  his  wan  cheeks  a  gentle  smile  we  won. 

Full  early  had  he  read  the  stern  decree, 

Sorrow  and  death  to  him,  alas,  were  known; 

Ofttimes  recovering,  now  departed  he, — 

Dread  tidings,  that  our  hearts  had  feared  to  own! 

Yet  his  transfigured  being  now  can  see 

Itself,  e'en  here  on  earth,  transfigured  grown. 

What  his  own  age  reproved,  and  deemed  a  crime, 

Hath  been  ennobled  now  by  death  and  time. 

And  many  a  soul  that  with  him  strove  in  fight, 
And  his  great  merit  grudged  to  recognize, 

Now  feels  the  impress  of  his  wondrous  might, 
And  in  his  magic  fetters  gladly  lies; 

E'en  to  the  highest  hath  he  winged  his  flight, 
In  close  communion  linked  with  all  we  prize. 

Extol  him  then!     What  mortals  while  they  live 

But  half  receive,  posterity  shall  give. 


POEMS  39 

Thus  is  he  left  us,  who  so  long  ago, — 

Ten  years,  alas,  already !  —  turned  from  earth ; 

We  all,  to  our  great  joy,  his  precepts  know, 

Oh,  may  the  world  confess  their  priceless  worth  1 

In  swelling  tide  toward  every  region  flow 

The  thoughts  that  were  his  own  peculiar  birth; 

He  gleams  like  some  departing  meteor  bright, 

Combining,  with  his  own,  eternal  light. 

ERGO  BIBAMUS!*  (1810) 

FOB  a  praiseworthy  object  we're  now  gathered  here, 

So,  brethren,  sing:    ERGO  BIBAMUS! 
Tho '  talk  may  be  hushed,  yet  the  glasses  ring  clear, 

Kemember  then,  EBGO  BIBAMUS! 
In  truth  'tis  an  old,  'tis  an  excellent  word, 
With  its  sound  befitting  each  bosom  is  stirred, 
And  an  echo  the  festal  hall  filling  is  heard, 

A  glorious  EBGO  BIBAMUS! 

I  saw  mine  own  love  in  her  beauty  so  rare, 
And  bethought  me  of :    EBGO  BIBAMUS  ; 
So  I  gently  approached,  and  she  let  me  stand  there, 

While  I  helped  myself,  thinking:    BIBAMUS! 
And  when  she 's  appeared,  and  will  clasp  you  and  kiss, 
Or  when  those  embraces  and  kisses  ye  miss, 
Take  refuge,  till  found  is  some  worthier  bliss, 
In  the  comforting  EBGO  BIBAMUS  ! 

I  am  called  by  my  fate  far  away  from  each  friend ; 

Ye  loved  ones,  then :    EBGO  BIBAMUS  ! 
With  wallet  light-laden  from  hence  I  must  wend, 

So  double  our  EBGO  BIBAMUS! 
Whate  'er  to  his  treasure  the  niggard  may  add, 
Yet  regard  for  the  joyous  will  ever  be  had, 
For  gladness  lends  ever  its  charms  to  the  glad, 

So,  brethren,  sing :    EBGO  BIBAMUS  ! 


•  Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 


40  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  to-day  as  it  flies  I 

I  thought  but  of:    ERGO  BIBAMUS! 
'Tis  one  of  those  truly  that  seldom  arise, 
So  again  and  again  sing:    BIBAMUS! 
For  joy  through  a  wide-open  portal  it  guides, 
Bright  glitter  the  clouds  as  the  curtain  divides, 
And  a  form,  a  divine  one,  to  greet  us  in  glides, 
While  we  thunder  our:    ERGO  BIBAMUS. 

THE  WALKING  BELL*  (1813) 
A  CHILD  refused  to  go  betimes 

To  church  like  other  people; 
He  roamed  abroad,  when  rang  the  chimes 

On  Sundays  from  the  steeple. 

His  mother  said:     "  Loud  rings  the  bell, 
Its  voice  ne'er  think  of  scorning; 

Unless  thou  wilt  behave  thee  well, 
'Twill  fetch  thee  without  warning." 

The  child  then  thought:     "  High  over  head 
The  bell  is  safe  suspended —  " 

So  to  the  fields  he  straightway  sped 
As  if  'twas  school-time  ended. 

The  bell  now  ceased  as  bell  to  ring, 
Roused  by  the  mother's  twaddle; 

But  soon  ensued  a  dreadful  thing!  — 
The  bell  begins  to  waddle. 

It  waddles  fast,  though  strange  it  seem; 

The  child,  with  trembling  wonder, 
Runs  off,  and  flies,  as  in  a  dream; 

The  bell  would  draw  him  under. 

He  finds  the  proper  time  at  last, 
And  straightway  nimbly  rushes 

To  church,  to  chapel,  hastening  fast 
Through  pastures,  plains,  and  bushes. 


*  Translation :     E.  A.  Bowring. 


POEMS  41 

Each  Sunday  and  each  feast  as  well, 

His  late  disaster  heeds  he ; 
The  moment  that  he  hears  the  bell, 

No  other  summons  needs  he. 

FOUND*  (1813) 

ONCE  through  the  forest 

Alone  I  went; 
To  seek  for  nothing 

My  thoughts  were  bent. 

I  saw  i'  the  shadow 

A  flower  stand  there ; 
As  stars  it  glisten 'd, 

As  eyes  'twas  fair. 

I  sought  to  pluck  it, — 

It  gently  said: 
"  Shall  I  be  gather 'd 
Only  to  fade?" 

With  all  its  roots 

I  dug  it  with  care, 
And  took  it  home 

To  my  garden  fair. 

In  silent  corner 

Soon  it  was  set; 
There  grows  it  ever, 

There  blooms  it  yet. 

HATEM1  (1815) 
Locks  of  brown,  still  bind  your  captive 

In  the  circle  of  her  face ! 
I,  beloved  sinuous  tresses, 

Naught  possess  that's  worth  your  grace  - 


Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 
Translator:    A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman. 


42  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

But  a  heart  whose  love  enduring 
Swells  in  youthful  fervor  yet: 

Snow  and  mists  envelop  Etna, 
Making  men  the  fire  forget. 

Yonder  mountain's  pride  so  stately 
Thou  dost  shame  like  dawn's  red  glow; 

And  its  spell  once  more  bids  Hatem 
Thrill  of  spring  and  summer  know. 

Once  more  fill  the  glass,  the  flagon ! 

Let  me  drink  to  my  desire. 
If  she  find  a  heap  of  ashes, 

Say,  "  He  perished  in  her  fire!" 


REUNION*  (1815) 

CAN  it  be,  0  star  transcendent, 

That  I  fold  thee  to  my  breast! 
Now  I  know  what  depths  of  anguish 

May  in  parting  be  expressed. 
Yes,  'tis  thou,  of  all  my  blisses 

Lovely,  loving  partner  —  thou ! 
Mindful  of  my  bygone  sorrows, 

E'en  the  present  awes  me  now. 

When  the  world  in  first  conception 

Lay  in  God's  eternal  mind, 
In  creative  power  delighting 

He  the  primal  hour  designed. 
When  he  gave  command  for  being, 

Then  was  heard  a  mighty  sigh 
Full  of  pain,  as  all  creation 

Broke  into  reality. 


*  Translator :     A.  1.  du  P.  Coleman. 


POEMS  43 

Up  then  sprang  the  light ;  and  darkness 

Doubtful  stood  apart  to  gaze; 
All  the  elements,  dividing 

Swiftly,  took  their  several  ways. 
In  confused,  disordered  dreaming 

Strove  they  all  for  freedom 's  range  — 
Each  for  self,  no  fellow-feeling ; 

Single  each,  and  cold  and  strange. 

Lo,  a  marvel  —  God  was  lonely ! 

All  was  still  and  cold  and  dumb. 
So  he  framed  dawn's  rosy  blushes 

Whence  should  consolation  come  — 
To  refresh  the  troubled  spirit 

Harmonies  of  color  sweet: 
What  had  erst  been  forced  asunder 

Now  at  last  could  love  and  meet. 

Then,  ah  then,  of  life  unbounded 

Sight  and  feeling  passed  the  gates ; 
Then,  ah  then,  with  eager  striving 

Kindred  atoms  sought  their  mates. 
Gently,  roughly  they  may  seize  them, 

So  they  catch  and  hold  them  fast : 
We,"  they  cry,  "  are  now  creators  — 

Allah  now  may  rest  at  last!" 

So  with  rosy  wings  of  morning 

Towards  thy  lips  my  being  moves ; 
Sets  the  starry  night  a  thousand 

Glowing  seals  upon  our  loves. 
We  are  as  we  should  be  —  parted 

Ne'er  on  earth  in  joy  or  pain; 
And  no  second  word  creative 

E  'er  can  sunder  us  again  I 


44  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

PROCEMION*  (1816) 

IN  His  blest  name,  who  was  His  own  creation, 
Who  from  all  time  makes  making  His  vocation; 
The  name  of  Him  who  makes  our  faith  so  bright, 
Love,  confidence,  activity,  and  might; 
In  that  One 's  name,  who,  named  though  oft  He  be, 
Unknown  is  ever  in  Reality: 
As  far  as  ear  can  reach,  or  eyesight  dim, 
Thou  findest  but  the  known  resembling  Him; 
How  high  soe'er  thy  fiery  spirit  hovers, 
Its  simile  and  type  it  straight  discovers ; 
Onward  thou'rt  drawn,  with  feelings  light  and  gay, 
Where  e'er  thou  goest,  smiling  is  the  way; 
No  more  thou  numberest,  reckonest  no  time, 
Each  step  is  infinite,  each  step  sublime. 

What  God  would  outwardly  alone  control, 
And  on  His  finger  whirl  the  mighty  Whole? 
He  loves  the  inner  world  to  move,  to  view 
Nature  in  Him,  Himself  in  Nature,  too, 
So  that  what  in  Him  works,  and  is,  and  lives, 
The  measure  of  His  strength,  His  spirit  gives. 

Within  us  all  a  universe  doth  dwell; 
And  hence  each  people's  usage  laudable, 
That  every  one  the  Best  that  meets  his  eyes 
As  God,  yea,  e  'en  his  God,  doth  recognize ; 
To  Him  both  earth  and  heaven  surrenders  he, 
Pears  Him,  and  loves  Him,  too,  if  that  may  be. 

THE  ONE  AND  THE  ALLt  (1821) 

CALLED  to  a  new  employ  in  boundless  space, 
The  lonely  monad  quits  its  'customed  place 

And  from  life 's  weary  round  contented  flees. 
No  more  of  passionate  striving,  will  perverse 
And  hampering  obligations,  long  a  curse : 

Free  self-abandonment  at  last  gives  peace. 

"Translator:     E.  A.  Bowring. 

t  Translator :     A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman. 


POEMS  45 

Soul  of  the  world,  come  pierce  our  being  through! 
Across  the  drift  of  things  our  way  to  hew 

Is  our  appointed  task,  our  noblest  war. 
Good  spirits  by  our  destined  pathway  still 
Lead  gently  on,  best  masters  of  our  will, 

Toward  that  which  made  and  makes  all  things  that  are. 
To  shape  for  further  ends  what  now  has  breath, 
Let  nothing  harden  into  ice  and  death, 

Works  endless  living  action  everywhere. 
What  has  not  yet  existed  strives  for  birth  — 
Toward  purer  suns,  more  glorious-colored  earth: 

To  rest  in  idle  stillness  naught  may  dare. 
All  must  move  onward,  help  transform  the  mass, 
Assume  a  form,  to  yet  another  pass ; 

rTis  but  in  seeming  aught  is  fixed  or  still. 
In  all  things  moves  the  eternal  restless  Thought; 
For  all,  when  comes  the  hour,  must  fall  to  naught 

If  to  persist  in  being  is  its  will. 

LINES  ON  SEEING  SCHILLER'S  SKULL*  (1826) 

[This  curious  imitation  of  the  ternary  metre  of  Dante  was  written  at  the 
age  of  seventy-seven.] 

WITHIN  a  gloomy  charnel-house  one  day 

I  viewed  the  countless  skulls,  so  strangely  mated, 
And  of  old  times  I  thought  that  now  were  gray. 

Close  packed  they  stand  that  once  so  fiercely  hated, 
And  hardy  bones  that  to  the  death  contended, 

Are  lying  crossed, —  to  lie  forever,  fated. 
What  held  those  crooked  shoulder-blades  suspended? 

No  one  now  asks ;  and  limbs  with  vigor  fired, 
The  hand,  the  foot  —  their  use  in  life  is  ended. 

Vainly  ye  sought  the  tomb  for  rest  when  tired ; 
Peace  in  the  grave  may  not  be  yours;  ye 're  driven 

Back  into  daylight  by  a  force  inspired; 
But  none  can  love  the  withered  husk,  though  even 

A  glorious  noble  kernel  it  contained. 

•  Translator :     E.  A.  Bowring. 


46  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

To  me,  an  adept,  was  the  writing  given 

Which  not  to  all  its  holy  sense  explained. 
When  'mid  the  crowd,  their  icy  shadows  flinging, 

I  saw  a  form  that  glorious  still  remained, 
And  even  there,  where  mould  and  damp  were  clinging, 

Gave  me  a  blest,  a  rapture-fraught  emotion, 
As  though  from  death  a  living  fount  were  springing. 

What  mystic  joy  I  felt !     What  rapt  devotion ! 
That  form,  how  pregnant  with  a  godlike  trace ! 

A  look,  how  did  it  whirl  me  toward  that  ocean 
Whose  rolling  billows  mightier  shapes  embrace! 

Mysterious  vessel!     Oracle  how  dear! 
Even  to  grasp  thee  is  my  hand  too  base, 

Except  to  steal  thee  from  thy  prison  here 
With  pious  purpose,  and  devoutly  go 

Back  to  the  air,  free  thoughts,  and  sunlight  clear. 
What  greater  gain  in  life  can  man  e'er  know 

Than  when  God-Nature  will  to  him  explain 
How  into  Spirit  steadfastness  may  flow, 

How  steadfast,  too,  the  Spirit-Born  remain. 

A  LEGACY*  (1829) 

No  living  atom  comes  at  last  to  naught ! 
Active  in  each  is  still  the  eternal  Thought: 

Hold  fast  to  Being  if  thou  wouldst  be  blest. 
Being  is  without  end ;  for  changeless  laws 
Bind  that  from  which  the  All  its  glory  draws 

Of  living  treasures  endlessly  possessed. 

Unto  the  wise  of  old  this  truth  was  known, 
Such  wisdom  knit  their  noble  souls  in  one; 

Then  hold  thou  still  the  lore  of  ancient  days! 
To  that  high  power  thou  ow  'st  it,  son  of  man, 
By  whose  decree  the  earth  its  circuit  ran 

And  all  the  planets  went  their  various  ways. 
Then  inward  turn  at  once  thy  searching  eyes ; 


Translator:     A.  I.  du  P.  Coleman. 


POEMS  47 

Thence  shalt  thou  see  the  central  truth  arise 

From  which  no  lofty  soul  goes  e'er  astray; 

There  shalt  thou  miss  no  needful  guiding  sign 

For  conscience  lives,  and  still  its  light  divine 

Shall  be  the  sun  of  all  thy  moral  day. 
Next  shalt  thou  trust  thy  senses'  evidence, 
And  fear  from  them  no  treacherous  offence 

While  the  mind 's  watchful  eye  thy  road  commands : 
With  lively  pleasure  contemplate  the  scene 
And  roam  securely,  teachable,  serene, 

At  will  throughout  a  world  of  fruitful  lands. 
Enjoy  in  moderation  all  life  gives : 
Where  it  rejoices  in  each  thing  that  lives 

Let  reason  be  thy  guide  and  make  thee  see. 
Then  shall  the  distant  past  be  present  still, 
The  future,  ere  it  comes,  thy  vision  fill  — 

Each  single  moment  touch  eternity. 
Then  at  the  last  shalt  thou  achieve  thy  quest, 
And  in  one  final,  firm  conviction  rest: 

What  bears  for  thee  true  fruit  alone  is  true. 
Prove  all  things,  watch  the  movement  of  the  world 
As  down  the  various  ways  its  tribes  are  whirled ; 

Take  thou  thy  stand  among  the  chosen  few. 
Thus  hath  it  been  of  old ;  in  solitude 
The  artist  shaped  what  thing  to  him  seemed  good, 

The  wise  man  hearkened  to  his  own  soul's  voice. 
Thus  also  shalt  thou  find  thy  greatest  bliss; 
To  lead  where  the  elect  shall  follow  —  this 

And  this  alone  is  worth  a  hero 's  choice. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA 

BY  ARTHUR  H.  PALMER,  A.M.,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  German  Language  and  Literature,  Yale  University 


ERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  is  universally 
known  and  prized  in  Germany  as  no  other 
work  of  the  classical  period  of  German  liter- 
ature except  Goethe's  Faust  and  Schiller's 
Wilhelm  Tell,  and,  although  distinctively 
German  in  subject  and  spirit,  it  early  became  and  is  still 
a  precious  possession  of  all  the  modern  world.  It  marks 
the  culmination  of  the  renaissance  in  the  literary  art  of 
Germany  and  perhaps  of  Europe. 

Schiller  hailed  it  as  the  pinnacle  of  Goethe's  and  of  all 
modern  art.  A.  W.  Schlegel  in  1797  judged  it  to  be  a 
finished  work  of  art  in  the  grand  style,  and  at  the  same 
time  intelligible,  sympathetic,  patriotic,  popular,  a  book 
full  of  golden  teachings  of  wisdom  and  virtue.  Two  gener- 
ations later  one  of  the  leading  historians  of  German  liter- 
ature declared  that  there  is  no  other  poem  that  comes  so 
near  to  the  father  of  all  poetry  (Homer)  as  this,  none  in 
which  Greek  form  and  German  content  are  so  intimately 
blended,  and  that  this  is  perhaps  the  only  poem  which 
without  explanation  and  without  embarrassment  all  the 
modern  centuries  could  offer  to  an  ancient  Greek  to  enjoy. 
In  the  view  of  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century,  expressed 
by  a  distinguished  philosopher-critic,  this  work  is  a  unique 
amalgam  of  the  artistic  spirit,  objectivity,  and  contem- 
plative clearness  of  Homer  with  the  soul-life  of  the  present, 
the  heart-beat  of  the  German  people,  the  characteristic 
traits  which  mark  the  German  nature. 

As  Longfellow's  Evangeline,  treating  in  the  same  verse- 
form  of  the  dactylic  hexameter  and  in  a  way  partly  epic 
and  partly  idyllic  a  story  of  love  and  domestic  interests 
in  a  contrasting  setting  of  war  and  exile,  was  modeled  on 
Hermann  and  Dorothea,  so  the  latter  poem  was  suggested 

[48] 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  49 

by  J.  H.  Voss'  idyl  Luise,  published  first  in  parts  in  1783 
and  1784  and  as  a  whole  revised  in  1795.  Of  his  delight  in 
Luise  Goethe  wrote  to  Schiller  in  February,  1798:  "  This 
proved  to  be  much  to  my  advantage,  for  this  joy  finally 
became  productive  in  me,  it  drew  me  into  this  form  (the 
epic),  begot  my  Hermann,  and  who  knows  what  may  yet 
come  of  it."  But  Luise  is  not  really  epic;  it  is  without 
action,  without  unity,  without  any  large  historical  out- 
look,—  a  series  of  minutely  pictured,  pleasing  idyllic  scenes. 

In  contrast  herewith  Goethe's  purpose  was  in  his  own 
words,  "  in  an  epic  crucible  to  free  from  its  dross  the  purely 
human  existence  of  a  small  German  town,  and  at  the  same 
time  mirror  in  a  small  glass  the  great  movements  and 
changes  of  the  world's  stage."  This  purpose  he  achieved 
in  the  writing  of  Hermann  and  Dorothea  at  intervals  from 
September,  1796,  through  the  summer  of  1797,  in  the 
autumn  of  which  year  the  poem  was  published. 

The  main  sources  from  which  the  poet  drew  his  material 
are  four.  In  the  first  place  the  theme  was  invented  by  him 
out  of  an  anecdote  of  the  flight  of  Protestant  refugees  from 
the  Archbishopric  of  Salzburg  in  1731-1732.  On  the  basis 
of  this  anecdote  he  drew  the  original  outlines  of  the 
meeting  and  union  of  the  lovers.  Secondly,  as  a  conse- 
quence of  the  French  Revolution,  Germans  were  forced  to 
flee  from  German  territory  west  of  the  Rhine.  Goethe 
was  present  with  Prussian  troops  in  France  in  1792,  and 
observed  the  siege  of  Mainz  in  1793.  Hence  his  knowledge 
of  war  and  exile,  with  their  attendant  cruelties  and  suffer- 
ings. Thirdly,  the  personal  experiences  of  his  own  life 
could  not  but  contribute  to  his  description  of  the  then 
German  present.  Features  of  Frankfurt  and  Ilmenau 
reappear.  The  characters  show  traits  of  Goethe 's  parents, 
and  possibly  something  of  his  wife  is  in  Dorothea.  Her- 
mann's mother  bears,  the  name  of  the  poet's  and  reveals 
many  of  her  qualities.  But  some  of  these  are  given  to  the 
landlord-father,  while  the  elder  Goethe's  pedantry  and 
petty  weaknesses  are  shown  in  the  apothecary.  The  poet's 
VOL.  1  —  4 


50  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

experiences  in  the  field  are  realistically  reproduced  in  many 
particulars  of  character  and  incident,  as  are  doubtless  also 
his  mother's  vivid  reports  of  events  in  Frankfurt  during 
July  and  August,  1796.  We  may  feel  sure  too  that  it  was 
the  occurrences  of  this  summer  that  led  Goethe  to  trans- 
form the  short,  pure  idyl  of  his  first  intention  into  a  longer 
epic  of  his  own  present.  The  fourth  source  is  literary 
tradition,  which  we  may  trace  back  through  the  verse  idyl 
of  Voss  to  the  prose  idyl  of  Gessner,  thence  through  the 
unnatural  Arcadian  pastorals  of  the  seventeenth  and 
earlier  centuries  to  the  great  Greek  creators, —  Theocritus, 
of  the  idyl,  and  Homer,  of  the  epic. 

From  whatever  source  derived,  the  materials  were  trans- 
muted and  combined  by  Goethe's  genius  into  a  broad,  full 
picture  of  German  life,  with  characters  typical  of  the  truly 
human  and  of  profound  ethical  importance,  interpreting 
to  the  attentive  reader  the  significance  of  life  for  the  indi- 
vidual, the  family,  the  nation. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  (1797)* 

TRANSLATED  BY  ELLEN  FROTHINGHAM 

CALLIOPE 

FATE  AND  SYMPATHY 

[RULY,  I  never  have  seen  the  market  and  street 

so  deserted! 
How  as  if  it  were  swept  looks  the  town,  or 

had  perished!    Not  fifty 
Are  there,  methinks,  of  all  our  inhabitants  in 

it  remaining. 

What  will  not  curiosity  do !  here  is  every  one  running, 
Hurrying  to  gaze  on  the  sad  procession  of  pitiful  exiles. 
Fully  a  league  it  must  be  to  the  causeway  they  have  to  pass 

over, 

Yet  all  are  hurrying  down  in  the  dusty  heat  of  the  noonday. 
I,  in  good  sooth,  would  not  stir  from  my  place  to  witness 

the  sorrows 
Borne  by  good,  fugitive  people,  who  now,  with  their  rescued 

possessions, 
Driven,    alas!    from   beyond    the   Rhine,    their   beautiful 

country, 

Over  to  us  are  coming,  and  through  the  prosperous  corner 
Roam    of    this    our    luxuriant   valley,    and    traverse    its 

windings. 
Well  hast  thou  done,  good  wife,  our  son  in  thus  kindly 

dispatching, 
Laden  with  something  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and  with  store 

of  old  linen, 
'Mongst  the  poor  folk  to  distribute;  for  giving  belongs  to 

the  wealthy. 
How  the  youth  drives,  to  be  sure!    What  control  he  has 

over  the  horses ! 

•Harvard  Classics  (Copyright  P.  F.  Collier  &  Son). 

[51] 


52  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Makes  not  our  carriage  a  handsome  appearance, —  the  new 

one?    With  comfort, 
Four  could  be  seated  within,  with  a  place  on  tha  box  for 

the  coachman. 
This  time,  he  drove  by  himself.    How  lightly  it  rolled  round 

the  corner!" 
Thus,  as  he  sat  at  his  ease  in  the  porch  of  his  house  on  the 

market, 
Unto  his  wife  was  speaking  mine  host  of  the  Golden  Lion. 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  prudent,  intelligent 

housewife : 

1 '  Father,  I  am  not  inclined  to  be  giving  away  my  old  linen : 
Since  it  serves  many  a  purpose ;  and  cannot  be  purchased 

for  money, 
When  we  may  want  it.    Today,  however,  I  gave,  and  with 

pleasure, 

Many  a  piece  that  was  better,  indeed,  in  shirts  and  in  bed- 
clothes ; 
For  I  was  told  of  the  aged  and  children  who  had  to  go 

naked. 
But  wilt  thou  pardon  me,  father!  thy  wardrobe  has  also 

been  plundered. 
And,  in  especial,  the  wrapper  that  has  the  East-Indian 

flowers, 

Made  of  the  finest  of  chintz,  and  lined  with  delicate  flannel, 
Gave  I  away:  it  was  thin  and  old,  and  quite  out  of  the 

fashion. " 

Thereupon  answered  and  said,  with  a  smile,  the  excellent 

landlord : 

11  Faith!  I  am  sorry  to  lose  it,  my  good  old  calico  wrapper, 
Real  East-Indian  stuff:  I  never  shall  get  such  another. 
Well,  I  had  given  up  wearing  it :  nowadays,  custom  compels 

us 

Always  to  go  in  surtout,  and  never  appear  but  in  jacket; 
Always  to  have  on  our  boots ;  forbidden  are  night-cap  and 

slippers." 


LUDWIG    RlCHTEt 

HERMANN'S  PARENTS  IN   THE  DOORWAY  OF  THE  TAVERN 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  53 

"  See!"  interrupted  the  wife;  "  even  now  some  are  yon- 
der returning, 

"Who  have  beheld  the  procession :  it  must,  then,  already  be 
over. 

Look  at  the  dust  on  their  shoes !  and  see  how  their  faces  are 
glowing ! 

Every  one  carries  his  kerchief,  and  with  it  is  wiping  the 
sweat  off. 

Not  for  a  sight  like  that  would  I  run  so  far  and  so  suffer, 

Through  such  a  heat ;  in  sooth,  enough  shall  I  have  in  the 
telling." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said,  with  emphasis,  thus,  the 

good  father: 
"  Rarely  does  weather  like  this  attend  such  a  harvest  as 

this  is. 

We  shall  be  bringing  our  grain  in  dry,  as  the  hay  was  be- 
fore it. 
Not  the  least  cloud  to  be  seen,  so  perfectly  clear  is  the 

heaven ; 
And,  with  delicious  coolness,  the  wind  blows  in  from  the 

eastward. 
That  is  the  weather  to  last!  over-ripe  are  the  cornfields 

already ; 
We   shall  begin  on  the  morrow  to  gather  our  copious 

harvest." 

Constantly,  while  he  thus  spoke,  the  crowds  of  men  and 
of  women 

Grew,  who  their  homeward  way  were  over  the  market-place 
wending ; 

And,  with  the  rest,  there  also  returned,  his  daughters  be- 
side him, 

Back  to  his  modernized  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 

market, 
Foremost  merchant  of  all  the  town,  their  opulent  neighbor, 


54  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Rapidly  driving  his  open  barouche, —  it  was  builded  in 
Landau. 

Lively  now  grew  the  streets,  for  the  city  was  handsomely 
peopled. 

Many  a  trade  was  therein  carried  on,  and  large  manu- 
factures. 

Under  their  doorway  thus  the  affectionate  couple  were 
sitting, 

Pleasing  themselves  with  many  remarks  on  the  wandering 
people. 

Finally  broke  in,  however,  the  worthy  housewife,  exclaim- 
ing: 

"  Yonder  our  pastor,  see!  is  hitherward  coming,  and  with 
him 

Comes  our  neighbor  the  doctor,  so  they  shall  every  thing 
tell  us; 

All  they  have  witnessed  abroad,  and  which  'tis  a  sorrow  to 
look  on." 

Cordially  then  the  two  men  drew  nigh,  and  saluted  the 

couple ; 
Sat  themselves  down  on  the  benches  of  wood  that  were 

placed  in  the  doorway, 
Shaking  the  dust  from  their  feet,  and  fanning  themselves 

with  their  kerchiefs. 
Then  was  the  doctor,  as  soon  as  exchanged  were  the  mutual 

greetings, 

First  to  begin,  and  said,  almost  in  a  tone  of  vexation : 
"  Such  is  mankind,  forsooth!  and  one  man  is  just  like 

another, 
Liking  to  gape  and  to  stare  when  ill-luck  has  befallen  his 

neighbor. 
Every  one  hurries  to  look  at  the  flames,  as  they  soar  in 

destruction ; 

Runs  to  behold  the  poor  culprit,  to  execution  conducted : 
Now  all  are  sallying  forth  to  gaze  on  the  need  of  these 

exiles, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  55 

Nor  is  there  one  who  considers  that  he,  by  a  similar  fortune, 
May,  in  the  future,  if  not  indeed  next,  be  likewise  o'ertaken. 
Levity  not  to  be  pardoned,  I  deem;  yet  it  lies  in  man's 
nature. ' ' 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  noble,  intelligent  pastor ; 

Ornament  he  of  the  town,  still  young,  in  the  prime  of  his 
manhood. 

He  was  acquainted  with  life, — with  the  needs  of  his  hearers 
acquainted ; 

Deeply  imbued  he  was  with  the  Holy  Scriptures'  im- 
portance, 

As  they  reveal  man's  destiny  to  us,  and  man's  disposition; 

Thoroughly  versed,  besides,  in  best  of  secular  writings. 

"  I  should  be  loath,"  he  replied,  "  to  censure  an  innocent 
instinct, 

Which  to  mankind  by  good  mother  Nature  has  always  been 
given. 

What  understanding  and  reason  may  sometimes  fail  to 
accomplish, 

Oft  will  such  fortunate  impulse,  that  bears  us  resistlessly 
with  it. 

Did  curiosity  draw  not  man  with  its  potent  attraction, 

Say,  would  he  ever  have  learned  how  harmoniously  fitted 
together 

Worldly  experiences  are!    For  first  what  is  novel  he  covets; 

Then  with  unwearying  industry  follows  he  after  the  useful ; 

Finally  longs  for  the  good  by  which  he  is  raised  and 
ennobled. 

While  he  is  young,  such  lightness  of  mind  is  a  joyous  com- 
panion, 

Traces  of  pain-giving  evil  effacing  as  soon  as  'tis  over. 

He  is  indeed  to  be  praised,  who,  out  of  this  gladness  of 
temper, 

Has  in  his  ripening  years  a  sound  understanding  developed ; 

Who,  in  good  fortune  or  ill,  with  zeal  and  activity  labors: 

Such  an  one  bringeth  to  pass  what  is  good,  and  repaireth 
the  evil" 


56  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Then  broke  familiarly  in  the  housewife  impatient,  ex- 
claiming : 

"  Tell  us  of  what  ye  have  seen;  for  that  I  am  longing  to 
hear  of !" 

"  Hardly,'*  with  emphasis  then  the  village  doctor  made 

answer, 
"  Can  I  find  spirits  so  soon  after  all  the  scenes  I  have 

witnessed. 

Oh,  the  manifold  miseries!  who  shall  be  able  to  tell  them? 
E'en  before  crossing  the  meadows,  and  while  we  were  yet 

at  a  distance, 

Saw  we  the  dust;  but  still  from  hill  to  hill  the  procession 
Passed  away  out  of  our  sight,  and  we  could  distinguish  but 

little. 
But  when  at  last  we  were  come  to  the  street  that  crosses 

the  valley, 
Great  was  the  crowd  and  confusion  of  persons  on  foot  and 

of  wagons. 
There,  alasl  saw  we  enough  of  these  poor  unfortunates 

passing, 

And  could  from  some  of  them  learn  how  bitter  the  sorrow- 
ful flight  was, 

Yet  how  joyful  the  feeling  of  life  thus  hastily  rescued. 
Mournful  it  was  to  behold  the  most  miscellaneous  chattels, — 
All  those  things  which  are  housed  in  every  well-furnished 

dwelling, 
All  by  the  house-keeper's  care  set  up  in  their  suitable 

places, 

Always  ready  for  use ;  for  useful  is  each  and  important. — 
Now  these  things  to  behold,  piled  up  on  all  manner  of 

wagons, 
One  on  the  top  of  another,  as  hurriedly  they  had  been 

rescued. 
Over  the  chest  of  drawers  were  the  sieve  and  wool  coverlet 

lying; 

Thrown  in  the  kneading-trough  lay  the  bed,  and  the  sheets 
on  the  mirror. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  57 

Danger,  alas!  as  we  learned  ourselves  in  our  great  con- 
flagration 
Twenty  years  since,  will  take  from  a  man  all  power  of 

reflection, 
So  that  he  grasps  things  worthless  and  leaves  what  is 

precious  behind  him. 
Here,  too,  with  unconsidering  care  they  were  carrying  with 

them 

Pitiful  trash,  that  only  encumbered  the  horses  and  oxen; 
Such  as  old  barrels  and  boards,  the  pen  for  the  goose,  and 

the  bird-cage. 
Women  and  children,  too,  went  toiling  along  with  their 

bundles, 

Panting  'neath  baskets  and  tubs,  full  of  things  of  no  man- 
ner of  value : 

So  unwilling  is  man  to  relinquish  his  meanest  possession. 
Thus  on  the  dusty  road  the  crowded  procession  moved 

forward, 
All  confused  and  disordered.     The  one  whose  beasts  were 

the  weaker, 
Wanted  more  slowly  to  drive,  while  faster  would  hurry 

another. 
Presently  went  up  a  scream  from  the  closely  squeezed 

women  and  children, 
And  with  the  yelping  of  dogs  was  mingled  the  lowing  of 

cattle, 
Cries  of  distress  from  the  aged  and  sick,  who  aloft  on  the 

wagon, 
Heavy  and  thus  overpacked,  upon  beds  were  sitting  and 

swaying. 
Pressed  at  last  from  the  rut  and  out  to  the  edge  of  the 

highway, 
Slipped  the  creaking  wheel;  the  cart  lost  its  balance,  and 

over 
Fell  in  the  ditch.     In  the  swing  the  people  were  flung  to 

a  distance, 


58  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Far  off  into   the  field,  with  horrible   screams;  by  good 

fortune 
Later  the  boxes  were  thrown  and  fell  more  near  to  the 

wagon. 

Verily  all  who  had  witnessed  the  fall,  expected  to  see  them 
Crushed  into  pieces  beneath  the  weight  of  trunks  and  of 

presses. 
So  lay  the  cart  all  broken  to  fragments,  and  helpless  the 

people. 
Keeping  their  onward  way,  the  others  drove  hastily  by 

them, 

Each  thinking  only  of  self,  and  carried  away  by  the  current. 
Then  we  ran  to  the  spot,  and  found  the  sick  and  the  aged, — 
Those  who  at  home  and  in  bed  could  before  their  lingering 

ailments 

Scarcely  endure, —  lying  bruised  on  the  ground,  complain- 
ing and  groaning, 
Choked  by  the  billowing  dust  and  scorched  by  the  heat  of 

the  noonday." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  kind-hearted  landlord, 

with  feeling: 
'  *  Would  that  our  Hermann  might  meet  them  and  give  them 

refreshment  and  clothing! 
Loath  should  I  be  to  behold  them :  the  looking  on  suffering 

pains  me. 

Touched  by  the  earliest  tidings  of  their  so  cruel  afflictions, 
Hastily  sent  we  a  mite  from  out  of  our  super-abundance, 
Only  that  some  might  be  strengthened,  and  we  might  our- 
selves be  made  easy. 

But  let  us  now  no  longer  renew  these  sorrowful  pictures 
Knowing  how  readily  fear  steals  into  the  heart  of  us 

mortals, 

And  anxiety,  worse  to  me  than  the  actual  evil. 
Come  with  me  into  the  room  behind,  our  cool  little  parlor, 
Where  no  sunbeam  e'er  shines,  and  no  sultry  breath  ever 
enters 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  59 

Through  its  thickness  of  wall.    There  mother  will  bring  us 
a  flagon 

Of  our  old  eighty-three,  with  which  we  may  banish  our 

fancies. 
Here  'tis  not  cosey  to  drink:  the  flies  so  buzz  round  the 

glasses." 
Thither    adjourned    they   then,    and    all   rejoiced   in   the 

coolness. 


Carefully  brought  forth  the  mother  the  clear  and  glorious 

vintage, 
Cased  in  a  well-polished  flask,  on  a  waiter  of  glittering 

pewter, 
Set  round  with  large  green  glasses,  the  drinking  cups  meet 

for  the  Rhine  wine. 

So  sat  the  three  together  about  the  highly  waxed  table, 
Gleaming  and  round  and  brown,  that  on  mighty  feet  was 

supported. 

Joyously  rang  at  once  the  glasses  of  landlord  and  pastor, 
But  his  motionless  held  the  third,  and  sat  lost  in  reflection, 
Until  with  words  of  good-humor  the  landlord  challenged 

him,  saying, — 
"  Come,  sir  neighbor,  empty  your  glass,  for  God  in  His 

mercy 
Thus  far  has  kept  us  from  evil,  and  so  in  the  future  will 

keep  us. 

For  who   acknowledges   not,   that  since   our  dread  con- 
flagration, 
When  He  so  hardly  chastised  us,  He  now  is  continually 

blessing, 
Constantly  shielding,  as  man  the  apple  of  His  eye  watches 

over, 
Holding  it  precious  and  dear  above  all  the  rest  of  His 

members? 
Shall  He  in  time  to  come  not  defend  us  and  furnish  us 

succor? 


60  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Only  when  danger  is  nigh  do  we  see  how  great  is  His  power. 
Shall  He  this  blooming  town  which  He  once  by  industrious 

burghers 
Built  up  afresh  from  its  ashes,  and  afterward  blessed  with 

abundance, 
Now  demolish  again,  and  bring  all  the  labor  to  nothing?  ' 

Cheerfully  said  in  reply  the  excellent  pastor,  and  kindly : 
"  Keep  thyself  firm  in  the  faith,  and  firm  abide  in  this 

temper ; 
For  it  makes  steadfast  and  wise  when  fortune  is  fair,  and 

when  evil, 
Furnishes    sweet    consolation    and    animates    hopes    the 

sublimest." 

Then  made  answer  the  landlord,  with  thoughts  judicious 

and  manly: 
* '  Often  the  Rhine 's  broad  stream  have  I  with  astonishment 

greeted, 
As  I  have  neared  it  again,  after  travelling  abroad  upon 

business. 

Always  majestic  it  seemed,  and  my  mind  and  spirit  exalted. 
But    I  could  never  imagine  its  beautiful  banks  would  so 

shortly 
Be  to  a  rampart  transformed,  to  keep  from  our  borders 

the  Frenchman, 

And  its  wide-spreading  bed  be  a  moat  all  passage  to  hinder. 
See !  thus  nature  protects,  the  stout-hearted  Germans  pro- 
tect us, 
And  thus  protects  us  the  Lord,  who  then  will  be  weakly 

despondent! 

Weary  already  the  combatants,  all  indications  are  peaceful. 
Would  it  might  be  that  when  that  festival,  ardently  longed 

for, 
Shall  in  our  church  be  observed,  when  the  sacred  Te  Deum 

is  rising, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  61 

Swelled  by  the  pealing  of  organ  and  bells,  and  the  blaring 
of  trumpets, — 

Would  it  might  be  that  that  day  should  behold  my  Her- 
mann, sir  pastor, 

Standing,  his  choice  now  made,  with  his  bride  before  thee 
at  the  altar, 

Making  that  festal  day,  that  through  every  land  shall  be 
honored, 

My  anniversary,  too,  henceforth  of  domestic  rejoicing! 

But  I  observe  with  regret,  that  the  youth  so  efficient  and 
active 

Ever  in  household  affairs,  when  abroad  is  timid  and  back- 
ward. 

Little  enjoyment  he  finds  in  going  about  among  others; 

Nay,  he  will  even  avoid  young  ladies'  society  wholly; 

Shuns  the  enlivening  dance  which  all  young  persons 
delight  in." 

Thus  he  spoke  and  listened;  for  now  was  heard  in  the 

distance 
Clattering  of  horses'  hoofs  drawing  near,  and  the  roll  of 

the  wagon, 
Which,  with  furious  haste,  came  thundering  under  the 

gateway. 

TERPSICHORE 

HERMANN 

Now  when  of  comely  mien  the  son  came  into  the  chamber, 
Turned  with  a  searching  look  the  eyes  of  the  preacher 

upon  him, 
And,  with  the  gaze  of  the  student,  who  easily  fathoms 

expression, 

Scrutinized  well  his  face  and  form  and  his  general  bearing. 
Then  with  a  smile  he  spoke,  and  said  in  words  of  affection : 
11  Truly  a  different  being  thou  comest!  I  never  have  seen 

thee 
Cheerful  as  now,  nor  ever  beheld  I  thy  glances  so  beaming. 


62  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Joyous  thou  comest,  and  happy:  'tis  plain  that  among  the 
poor  people 

Thou  hast  been  sharing  thy  gifts,  and  receiving  their  bless- 
ings upon  thee." 

Quietly  then,  and  with  serious  words,  the  son  made  him 

answer : 
"  If  I  have  acted  as  ye  will  commend,  I  know  not;  but  I 

followed 
That  which  my  heart  bade  me  do,  as  I  shall  exactly  relate 

you. 
Thou  wert,  mother,  so  long  in  rummaging  'mong  thy  old 

pieces, 
Picking  and  choosing,  that  not  until  late  was  thy  bundle 

together ; 
Then,  too,  the  wine  and  the  beer  took  care  and  time  in  the 

packing. 
When  I  came  forth  through  the  gateway  at  last,  and  out 

on  the  high-road, 
Backward  the  crowd  of  citizens  streamed  with  women  and 

children, 
Coming  to  meet  me;  for  far  was  already  the  band  of  the 

exiles. 
Quicker  I  kept  on  my  way,  and  drove  with  speed  to  the 

village, 
Where  they  were  meaning  to  rest,  as  I  heard,  and  tarry 

till  morning. 

Thitherward  up  the  new  street  as  I  hasted,  a  stout-tim- 
bered wagon, 
Drawn  by  two  oxen,  I  saw,  of  that  region  the  largest  and 

strongest ; 
While,  with  vigorous  steps,  a  maiden  was  walking  beside 

them, 
And,  a  long  staff  in  her  hand,  the  two  powerful  creatures 

was  guiding, 
Urging  them  now,  now  holding  them  back;  with  skill  did 

she  drive  them. 


LVDWIG    RlCHTER 

HERMANN    HANDS    TO    DOROTHEA    THE    LINEN    FOR    THE    EMIGRANTS 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  63 

Soon  as  the  maiden  perceived  me,  she  calmly  drew  near 

to  the  horses, 

And  in  these  words  she  addressed  me :  '  Not  thus  deplor- 
able always 

Has  our  condition  been,  as  today  on  this  journey  thou  seest. 
I  am  not  yet  grown  used  to  asking  gifts  of  a  stranger, 
Which  he  will  often  unwillingly  give,  to  be  rid  of  the  beggar. 
But  necessity  drives  me  to  speak ;  for  here,  on  the  straw,  lies 
Newly  delivered  of  child,  a  rich  land-owner's  wife,  whom 

I  scarcely 
Have  in  her  pregnancy,  safe  brought  off  with  the  oxen  and 

wagon. 

Naked,  now  in  her  arms  the  new-born  infant  is  lying, 
And  but  little  the  help  our  friends  will  be  able  to  furnish, 
If  in  the  neighboring  village,  indeed,  where  today  we  would 

rest  us, 
Still  we   shall  find  them;  though  much  do  I  fear  they 

already  have  passed  it. 
Shouldst  thou  have  linen  to   spare   of  any   description, 

provided 
Thou   of  this  neighborhood  art,  to  the  poor  in  charity 

give  it.' 

11  Thus  she  spoke,  and  the  pale-faced  mother  raised  her- 
self feebly 

Up  from  the  straw,  and  toward  me  looked.  Then  said 
I  in  answer: 

'  Surely  unto  the  good,  a  spirit  from  heaven  oft  speaketh, 

Making  them  feel  the  distress  that  threatens  a  suffering 
brother. 

For  thou  must  know  that  my  mother,  already  presaging 

thy  sorrows, 
Gave  me  a  bundle  to  use  it  straightway  for  the  need  of 

the  naked.' 
Then  I  untied  the  knots  of  the  string,  and  the  wrapper  of 

father 's 
Unto  her  gave,  and  gave  her  as  well  the  shirts  and  the  linen. 


64  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  she  thanked  me  with  joy,  and  cried:  'The  happy 
believe  not 

Miracles  yet  can  be  wrought:  for  only  in  need  we  ac- 
knowledge 

God's  own  hand  and  finger,  that  leads  the  good  to  show 
goodness. 

What  unto  us  He  has  done  through  thee,  may  He  do  to 
thee  also ! ' 

And  I  beheld  with  what  pleasure  the  sick  woman  handled 
the  linens, 

But  with  especial  delight  the  dressing-gown's  delicate 
flannel. 

'  Let  us  make  haste,'  the  maid  to  her  said,  *  and  come  to 
the  village, 

Where  our  people  will  halt  for  the  night  and  already  are 
resting. 

There  these  clothes  for  the  children  I,  one  and  all,  straight- 
way will  portion.' 

Then  she  saluted  again,  her  thanks  most  warmly  ex- 
pressing, 

Started  the  oxen;  the  wagon  went  on;  but  there  I  still 
lingered, 

Still  held  the  horses  in  check;  for  now  my  heart  was 
divided 

Whether  to  drive  with  speed  to  the  village,  and  there  the 
provisions 

Share  'mong  the  rest  of  the  people,  or  whether  I  here  to 
the  maiden 

All  should  deliver  at  once,  for  her  discreetly  to  portion. 

And  in  an  instant  my  heart  had  decided,  and  quietly 
driving 

After  the  maiden,  I  soon  overtook  her,  and  said  to  her 
quickly : 

'  Hearken,  good  maiden;  —  my  mother  packed  up  not  linen- 
stuffs  only 

Into  the  carriage,  that  I  should  have  clothes  to  furnish  the 
naked ; 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  65 

Wine  and  beer  she  added  besides,  and  supply  of  pro- 
visions : 

Plenty  of  all  these  things  I  have  in  the  box  of  the  carriage. 
But  now  I  feel  myself  moved  to  deliver  these  offerings  also 
Into  thy  hand;  for  so  shall  I  best  fulfil  my  commission. 
Thou  wilt  divide  them  with  judgment,  while  I  must  by 

chance  be  directed.' 
Thereupon  answered  the  maiden :    *  I  will  with  faithfulness 

portion 
These  thy  gifts,  that  all  shall  bring  comfort  to  those  who 

are  needy.' 
Thus  she  spoke,  and  quickly  the  box  of  the  carriage  I 

opened, 
Brought  forth  thence  the  substantial  hams,  and  brought 

out  the  breadstuffs, 
Bottles  of  wine  and  beer,  and  one  and  all  gave  to  the 

maiden. 
Willingly  would  I  have  given  her  more,  but  the  carriage 

was  empty. 
All  she  packed  at  the  sick  woman's  feet,  and  went  on  her 

journey. 
I,  with  my  horses  and  carriage,  drove  rapidly  back  to  the 

city." 

Instantly  now,  when  Hermann  had  ceased,  the  talkative 

neighbor 
Took  up  the  word,  and  cried:    "  Oh  happy,  in  days  like 

the  present, 
Days  of  flight  and  confusion,  who  lives  by  himself  in  his 

dwelling, 

Having  no  wife  nor  child  to  be  clinging  about  him  in  terror ! 
Happy  I  feel  myself  now,  and  would  not  for  much  be  called 

father ; 
Would  not  have  wife  and  children  today,  for  whom  to  be 

anxious. 
Oft  have  I  thought  of  this  flight  before;  and  have  packed 

up  together 
VOL.  1  —  5 


66  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

All  my  best  things  already,  the  chains  and  old  pieces  of 

money 
That  were  my  sainted  mother's,  of  which  not  one  has  been 

sold  yet. 

Much  would  be  left  behind,  it  is  true,  not  easily  gotten. 
Even  the  roots  and  the  herbs,  that  were  with  such  industry 

gathered, 
I  should  be  sorry  to  lose,  though  the  worth  of  the  goods 

is  but  trifling. 
If  my  purveyor  remained,  I  could  go  from  my  dwelling 

contented. 
When  my  cash  I  have  brought  away  safe,  and  have  rescued 

my  person, 
All  is  safe:  none  find  it  so  easy  to  fly  as  the  single." 

' '  Neighbor, ' '  unto  his  words  young  Hermann  with  em- 
phasis answered: 

"  I  can  in  no  wise  agree  with  thee  here,  and  censure  thy 
language. 

Is  he  indeed  a  man  to  be  prized,  who,  in  good  and  in  evil, 

Takes  no  thought  but  for  self,  and  gladness  and  sorrow 
with  others 

Knows  not  how  to  divide,  nor  feels  his  heart  so  impel  him  ? 

Rather  than  ever  today  would  I  make  up  my  mind  to  be 
married : 

Many  a  worthy  maiden  is  needing  a  husband's  protection, 

And  the  man  needs  an  inspiriting  wife  when  ill  is  im- 
pending." 

Thereupon  smiling  the  father  replied:    "  Thus  love  I  to 

hear  thee ! 
That  is  a  sensible  word  such  as  rarely  I've  known  thee 

to  utter." 
Straightway,  however,  the  mother  broke  in  with  quickness, 

exclaiming : 
"  Son,  to  be  sure,  thou  art  right!  we  parents  have  set  the 

example ; 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  67 

Seeing  that  not  in  our  season  of  joy  did  we  choose  one 

another ; 

Rather  the  saddest  of  hours  it  was  that  bound  us  together. 
Monday  morning  — I  mind  it  well;  for  the  day  that  pre- 
ceded 

Came  that  terrible  fire  by  which  our  city  was  ravaged  — 
Twenty  years  will  have  gone.     The  day  was  a  Sunday 

as  this  is; 

Hot  and  dry  was  the  season;  the  water  was  almost  ex- 
hausted. 
All   the   people   were   strolling   abroad  in   their  holiday 

dresses, 
'Mong  the  villages  partly,  and  part  in  the  mills  and  the 

taverns. 
And  at  the  end  of  the  city  the  flames  began,  and  went 

coursing 
Quickly   along  the   streets,   creating  a  draught  in  their 

passage. 
Burned  were  the  barns  where  the  copious  harvest  already 

was  garnered; 
Burned  were  the  streets  as  far  as  the  market ;  the  house  of 

my  father, 
Neighbor  to  this,  was  destroyed,  and  this  one  also  fell 

with  it. 
Little  we  managed  to  save.     I  sat,  that  sorrowful  night 

through, 
Outside  the  town  on  the  common,  to  guard  the  beds  and 

the  boxes. 

Sleep  overtook  me  at  last,  and  when  I  again  was  awakened, 
Feeling  the  chill   of  the  morning  that  always  descends 

before  sunrise, 
There  were  the  smoke  and  the  glare,  and  the  walls  and 

chimneys  in  ruins. 
Then  fell  a  weight  on  my  heart;  but  more  majestic  than 

ever 

Came  up  the  sun  again,  inspiring  my  bosom  with  courage. 
Then  I  rose  hastily  up,  with  a  yearning  the  place  to  revisit 


68  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Whereon  our  dwelling  had  stood,  and  to  see  if  the  hens 

had  been  rescued, 
Which  I  especially  loved,  for  I  still  was  a  child  in  my 

feelings. 
Thus  as  I  over  the  still-smoking  timbers  of  house  and  of 

court-yard 
Picked  my  way,  and  beheld  the  dwelling  so  ruined  and 

w'asted, 
Thou  earnest  up  to  examine  the  place,  from  the  other 

direction. 
Under  the  ruins  thy  horse  in  his  stall  had  been  buried; 

the  rubbish 
Lay  on  the  spot  and  the  glimmering  beams;  of  the  horse 

we  saw  nothing. 
Thoughtful  and  grieving  we  stood  there  thus,  each  facing 

the  other, 
Now  that  the  wall  was  fallen  that  once  had  divided  our 

court-yards. 
Thereupon  thou  by  the  hand  didst  take  me,  and  speak  to 

me,  saying, — 
'  Lisa,  how  earnest  thou  hithert     Go  back!  thy  soles  must 

be  burning; 
Hot  the  rubbish  is  here:  it  scorches  my  boots,  which  are 

stronger. ' 
And  thou  didst  lift  me  up,  and  carry  me  out  through  thy 

court-yard. 
There  was  the  door  of  the  house  left  standing  yet  with  its 

archway, 

Just  as  'tis  standing  now,  the  one  thing  only  remaining. 
Then  thou  didst  set  me  down  and  kiss  me;  to  that  I 

objected ; 
But  thou  didst  answer  and  say  with  kindly  significant 

language : 
*  See !  my  house  lies  in  ruins :  remain  here  and  help  me 

rebuild  it ; 
So   shall  my  help  in  return  be  given  to  building  thy 

father's.' 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  69 

Yet  did  I  not  comprehend  thee  until  thou  sentest  thy 

mother 

Unto  my  father,  and  quick  were  the  happy  espousals  ac- 
complished. 
E'en  to  this  day  I  remember  with  joy  those  half-consumed 

timbers, 
And  I  can  see   once  more  the  sun  coming  up  in  such 

splendor ; 
For  'twas  the  day  that  gave  me  my  husband;  and,  ere  the 

first  season 
Passed  of  that  wild  desolation,  a  son  to  my  youth  had  been 

given. 
Therefore   I  praise   thee,   Hermann,  that  thou,  with  an 

honest  assurance, 
Shouldst,  in  these  sorrowful  days,  be  thinking  thyself  of 

a  maiden, 
And  amid  ruins  and  war  shouldst  thus  have  the  courage 

to  woo  her." 

Straightway,  then,  and  with  warmth,  the  father  replied 
to  her,  saying: 

""Worthy  of  praise  is  the  feeling,  and  truthful  also  the 
story, 

Mother,  that  thou  hast  related ;  for  so  indeed  every  thing 
happened. 

Better,  however,  is  better.  It  is  not  the  business  of  all 
men 

Thus  their  life  and  estate  to  begin  from  the  very  foun- 
dation : 

Every  one  needs  not  to  worry  himself  as  we  and  the 
rest  did. 

Oh,  how  happy  is  he  whose  father  and  mother  shall  give 
him, 

Furnished  and  ready,  a  house  which  he  can  adorn  with 
his  increase. 

Every  beginning  is  hard;  but  most  the  beginning  a  house- 
hold. 


70  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Many  are  human  wants,   and  every  thing  daily  grows 

dearer, 
So  that  a  man  must  consider  the  means  of  increasing  his 

earnings. 
This  I  hope  therefore  of  thee,  my  Hermann,  that  into  our 

dwelling 
Thou  wilt  be  bringing  ere  long  a  bride  who  is  handsomely 

dowered ; 
For  it  is  meet  that  a  gallant  young  man  have  an  opulent 

maiden. 
Great  is  the  comfort  of  home  whene'er,  with  the  woman 

elected, 

Enter  the  useful  presents,  besides,  in  box  and  in  basket. 
Not  for  this  many  a  year  in  vain  has  the  mother  been  busy 
Making  her  daughter's  linens  of  strong  and  delicate 

texture ; 
God-parents  have  not  in  vain  been  giving  their  vessels  of 

silver, 

And  the  father  laid  by  in  his  desk  the  rare  pieces  of  money ; 
For  there  a  day  will  come  when  she,  with  her  gifts  and 

possessions, 
Shall  that  youth  rejoice  who  has  chosen  her  out  of  all 

others. 

Well  do  I  know  how  good  in  a  house  is  a  woman's  position, 
Who  her  own  furniture  round  her  knows,  in  kitchen  and 

chamber ; 

Who  herself  the  bed  and  herself  the  table  has  covered. 
Only  a  well-dowered  bride  should  I  like  to  receive  to  my 

dwelling. 
She  who  is  poor  is  sure,  in  the  end,  to  be  scorned  by  her 

husband ; 
And  will  as  servant  be  held,  who  as  servant  came  in  with 

her  bundle. 
Men  will  remain  unjust  when  the  season  of  love  is  gone 

over. 
Yes,  my  Hermann,  thy  father's  old  age  thou  greatly  canst 

gladden, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  71 

If  thou  a  daughter-in-law  will  speedily  bring  to  my  dwelling, 

Out  of  the  neighborhood  here, —  from  the  house  over  yon- 
der, the  green  one. 

Rich  is  the  man,  I  can  tell  thee.  His  manufactures  and 
traffic 

Daily  are  making  him  richer;  for  whence  draws  the  mer- 
chant not  profit? 

Three  daughters  only  he  has,  to  divide  his  fortune  among 
them. 

True  that  the  eldest  already  is  taken;  but  there  is  the 
second 

Still  to  be  had,  as  well  as  the  third;  and  not  long  so,  it 
may  be. 

I  would  never  have  lingered  till  now,  had  I  been  in  thy 
place ; 

But  had  fetched  one  of  the  maidens,  as  once  I  bore  off  thy 
dear  mother." 

Modestly  then  did  the  son  to  the  urgent  father  make 
answer: 

"  Truly  'twas  my  wish  too,  as  well  as  thine  own,  to  have 
chosen 

One  of  our  neighbor's  daughters,  for  we  had  been  brought 
up  together; 

Played,  in  the  early  days,  about  the  market-place  fountain ; 

And,  from  the  other  boys'  rudeness,  I  often  have  been 
their  defender. 

That,  though,  is  long  since  past:  the  girls,  as  they  grew 
to  be  older, 

Properly  stayed  in  the  house,  and  shunned  the  more  boister- 
ous pastimes. 

Well  brought  up  are  they,  surely!    I  used  sometimes  to  go 

over, 

Partly  to  gratify  thee,  and  because  of  our  former  acquaint- 
ance: 

But  no  pleasure  I  ever  could  take  in  being  among  them; 

For  I  was  always  obliged  to  endure  their  censures  upon  me. 


72  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Quite  too  long  was  my  coat,  the  cloth,  too  coarse,  and  the 

color 
Quite  too  common;  my  hair  was  not  cropped,  as  it  should 

be,  and  frizzled. 
I  was  resolved,  at  last,  that  I,  also,  would  dress  myself 

finely, 
Just  as  those  office-boys  do  who  always  are  seen  there  on 

Sundays, 
Wearing  in  summer  their  half-silken  flaps,  that  dangle 

about  them; 
But  I  discovered,  betimes,  they  made  ever  a  laughing-stock 

of  me. 
And  I  was  vexed  when  I  saw  it, — it  wounded  my  pride; 

but  more  deeply 

Felt  I  aggrieved  that  they  the  good-will  should  so  far  mis- 
interpret 
That  in  my  heart  I  bore  them, —  especially  Minna  the 

youngest. 

It  was  on  Easter-day  that  last  I  went  over  to  see  them; 
Wearing  my  best  new  coat,  that  is  now  hanging  up  in  the 

closet, 
And  having  frizzled  my  hair,  like  that  of  the  other  young 

fellows. 
Soon  as  I  entered,  they  tittered;  but  that  not  at  me,  as  I 

fancied. 

Minna  before  the  piano  was  seated ;  the  father  was  present, 
Hearing  his  daughters  sing,  and  full  of  delight  and  good- 
humor. 
Much  I  could  not  understand  of  all  that  was  said  in  the 

singing; 

But  of  Pamina  I  often  heard,  and  oft  of  Tamino : 
And  I,  besides,  could  not  stay  there  dumb;  so,  as  soon  as 

she  ended, 
Something  about  the  words  I  asked,  and  about  the  two 

persons. 
Thereupon  all  were  silent  and  smiled ;  but  the  father  made 

answer : 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  73 

1  Thou  knowest  no  •  one,  my  friend,  I  believe,  but  Adam 

and  Eve  f ' 
No  one  restrained  himself  longer,  but  loud  laughed  out 

then  the  maidens, 
Loud  laughed  out  the  boys,  the  old  man  held  his  sides  for 

his  laughing. 
I,  in  embarrassment,  dropped  my  hat,  and  the  giggling 

continued, 

On  and  on  and  on,  for  all  they  kept  playing  and  singing. 
Back  to  the  house  here  I  hurried,  overcome  with  shame 

and  vexation, 
Hung  up  my  coat  in  the  closet,  and  pulled  out  the  curls 

with  my  fingers, 
Swearing  that  never  again  my  foot  should  cross  over  that 

threshold. 
And  I  was  perfectly  right;  for  vain  are  the  maidens,  and 

heartless. 
E'en  to  this  day,  as  I  hear,  I  am  called  by  them  ever 

'Tamino.'" 

Thereupon   answered  the  mother,  and  said:     "  Thon 

shouldest  not,  Hermann, 
Be  so  long  vexed  with  the  children:  indeed,  they  are  all 

of  them  children. 
Minna,  believe  me,  is  good,  and  was  always  disposed  to 

thee  kindly. 
'Twas  not  long  since  she  was  asking  about  thee.    Let  her 

be  thy  chosen!  " 

Thoughtfully  answered  the  son:     "I  know  not     That 

mortification 
Stamped  itself  in  me  so  deeply,  I  never  could  bear  to 

behold  her 
Seated  before  the  piano  or  listen  again  to  her  singing." 

Forth  broke  the  father  then,  and  in  words  of  anger  made 
answer : 


74  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

"  Little  of  joy  will  my  life  have  in  thee!     I  said  it  would 

be  so 
When  I  perceived  that  thy  pleasure  was  solely  in  horses 

and  farming: 
Work  which  a  servant,  indeed,  performs  for  an  opulent 

master, 
That  thou  doest;  the  father  meanwhile  must  his  son  be 

deprived  of, 
Who  should  appear  as  his  pride,  in  the  sight  of  the  rest 

of  the  townsmen. 

Early  with  empty  hopes  thy  mother  was  wont  to  deceive  me, 
When  in  the  school  thy  studies,  thy  reading  and  writing, 

would  never 
As  with  the  others  succeed,  but  thy  seat  would  be  always 

the  lowest. 
That  comes  about,  forsooth,  when  a  youth  has  no  feeling 

of  honor 
Dwelling  within  his  breast,  nor  the  wish  to  raise  himself 

higher. 
Had  but  my  father  so  cared  for  me  as  thou  hast  been 

cared  for; 
If  he  had  sent  me  to  school,  and  provided  me  thus  with 

instructors, 
I  should  be  other,  I  trow,  than  host  of  the  Golden  Lion ! ' ' 

Then  the  son  rose  from  his  seat  and  noiselessly  moved 

to  the  doorway, 
Slowly,  and  speaking  no  word.     The  father,  however,  in 

passion 
After  him  called,  "  Yes,  go,  thou  obstinate  fellow!    I  know 

thee! 
Go  and  look  after  the  business  henceforth,  that  I  have  not 

to  chide  thee; 
But  do   thou  nowise   imagine   that   ever  a  peasant-born 

maiden 
Thou  for  a  daughter-in-law  shalt  bring  into  my  dwelling, 

the  hussy! 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  75 

Long  have  I  lived  in  the  world,  and  know  how  mankind 

should  be  dealt  with; 

Know  how  to  entertain  ladies  and  gentlemen  so  that  con- 
tented 
They  shall  depart  from  my  house,  and  strangers  agreeably 

can  flatter. 
Yet  I'm  resolved  that  some  day  I  one  will  have  for  a 

daughter, 
Who  shall  requite  me  in  kind  and  sweeten  my  manifold 

labors ; 
Who  the  piano  shall  play  to  me,  too;  so  that  there  shall 

with  pleasure 

All  the  handsomest  people  in  town  and  the  finest  assemble, 
As  they  on  Sundays  do  now  in  the  house  of  our  neighbor. ' ' 

Here  Hermann 
Softly  pressed  on  the  latch,  and  so  went  out  from  the 

chamber. 


THALIA 
THE  CITIZENS 

Thus  did  the  modest  son  slip  away  from  the  angry  up- 
braiding ; 

But  in  the  tone  he  had  taken  at  first,  the  father  continued : 

"  That  comes  not  out  of  a  man  which  he  has  not  in  him; 
and  hardly 

Shall  the  joy  ever  be  mine  of  seeing  my  dearest  wish 
granted : 

That  my  son  may  not  as  his  father  be,  but  a  better. 

What  would  become  of  the  house,  and  what  of  the  city  if 
each  one 

Were  not  with  pleasure  and  always  intent  on  maintaining, 
renewing, 

Yea,  and  improving,  too,  as  time  and  the  foreigner  teach  us ! 

Man  is  not  meant,  forsooth,  to  grow  from  the  ground  like 
a  mushroom, 


76  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Quickly  to  perish  away  on  the  spot  of  ground  that  begot  him, 
Leaving  no  trace  behind  of  himself  and  his  animate  action ! 
As  by  the  house  we  straightway  can  tell  the  mind  of  the 

master, 
So,  when  we  walk  through  a  city,  we  judge  of  the  persons 

who  rule  it. 
For  where  the  towers  and  walls  are  falling  to  ruin ;  where 

offal 
Lies  in  heaps  in  the  gutters,  and  alleys  with  offal  are 

littered ; 
Where  from  its  place  has  started  the  stone,  and  no  one 

resets  it ; 
Where  the  timbers  are  rotting  away,  and  the  house  is 

awaiting 
Vainly  its  new  supports, —  that  place  we  may  know  is  ill 

governed. 

Since  if  not  from  above  work  order  and  cleanliness  down- 
ward, 

Easily  grows  the  citizen  used  to  untidy  postponement; 
Just  as  the  beggar  grows  likewise  used  to   his  ragged 

apparel. 
Therefore  I  wished  that  our  Hermann  might  early  set  out 

on  some  travels; 
That  he  at  least  might  behold  the  cities  of  Strasburg  and 

Frankfort, 
Friendly   Mannheim,    too,    that   is    cheerful    and    evenly 

builded. 
He  that  has  once  beheld  cities  so  cleanly  and  large,  never 

after 
Ceases  his  own  native  city,  though  small  it  may  be,  to 

embellish. 
Do  not  the  strangers  who  come  here  commend  the  repairs 

in  our  gateway, 
Notice  our  whitewashed  tower,  and  the  church  we  have 

newly  rebuilded? 
Are  not  all  praising  our  pavement?  the  covered  canals  full 

of  water, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  77 

Laid  with  a  wise  distribution,  which  furnish  us  profit  and 

safety, 
So  that  no  sooner  does  fire  break  out  than  'tis  promptly 

arrested? 
Has  not  all  this  come  to  pass  since  the  time  of  our  great 

conflagration? 
Builder  I  six  times  was  named  by  the  council,  and  won  the 

approval, 
Won    moreover    the    heartfelt    thanks    of    all    the    good 

burghers, 

Actively  carrying  out  wrhat  I  planned,  and  also  fulfilling 
What  had  by  upright  men  been  designed,  and  left  uncom- 
pleted. 

Finally  grew  the  same  zeal  in  every  one  of  the  council; 
All  now  labor  together,  and  firmly  decided  already 
Stands  it  to  build  the  new  causeway  that  shall  with  the 

highroad  connect  us. 
But  I  am  sorely  afraid  that  will  not  be  the  way  with  our 

children. 

Some  think  only  of  pleasure  and  perishable  apparel; 
Others  will  cower  at  home,  and  behind  the  stove  will  sit 

brooding. 
One  of  this  kind,  as  I  fear,  we  shall  find  to  the  last  in  our 

Hermann." 

Straightway  answered  and  said  the  good  and  intelligent 
mother : 

"  Why  wilt  thou  always,  father,  be  doing  our  son  such 
injustice  T 

That  least  of  all  is  the  way  to  bring  thy  wish  to  ful- 
filment. 

We  have  no  power  to  fashion  our  children  as  suiteth  our 

fancy ; 
As  they  are  given  by  God,  we  so  must  have  them  and  love 

them; 

Teach  them  as  best  we  can,  and  let  each  of  them  follow 
his  nature. 


78  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

One  will  have  talents  of  one  sort,  and  different  talents 

another. 

Every  one  uses  his  own;  in  his  own  individual  fashion, 
Each  must  be  happy  and  good.     I  will  not  have  my  Her- 
mann found  fault  with; 
For  he  is  worthy,  I  know,  of  the  goods  he  shall  one  day 

inherit ; 
Will  be  an  excellent  landlord,  a  pattern  to  burghers  and 

builders ; 
Neither  in  council,  as  I  can  foresee,  will  he  be  the  most 

backward. 
But  thou  keepest  shut  up  in  his  breast  all  the  poor  fellow's 

spirit, 
Finding  such  fault  with  him  daily,  and  censuring  as  thou 

but  now  hast." 
And  on  the  instant  she  quitted  the  room,  and  after  him 

hurried, 
Hoping  she  somewhere  might  find  him,  and  might  with  her 

words  of  affection 
Cheer  him  again,  her  excellent  son,  for  well  he  deserved  it. 

Thereupon  when  she  was  gone,  the  father  thus  smiling 

continued : 
* '  What  a  strange  folk,  to  be  sure,  are  these  women ;  and 

just  like  the  children; 
Both  of  them  bent  upon  living  according  as  suiteth  their 

pleasure, 
While  we  others  must  never  do  aught  but  flatter  and  praise 

them. 
Once  for  all  time  holds  good  the  ancients'  trustworthy 

proverb : 
*  Whoever  goes  not  forward  comes  backward. '     So  must 

it  be  always." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  reflection, 

the  doctor: 

"That,  sir  neighbor,  I  willingly  grant;  for  myself  I  am 
always 


LODWIG  RlCHTEB 


THE  MOTHER  DEFENDING  HERMANN 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  79 

Casting  about  for  improvement, —  things  new,  so  they  be 

not  too  costly. 

But  what  profits  a  man,  who  has  not  abundance  of  money, 
Being  thus  active  and  stirring,  and  bettering  inside  and 

outside  ? 
Only  too  much  is  the  citizen  cramped :  the  good,  though  he 

know  it, 
Has   he   no    means   to    acquire   because   too   slender  his 

purse  is, 
While  his  needs  are  too  great;  and  thus  is  he  constantly 

hampered. 

Many  things  I  had  done ;  but  then  the  cost  of  such  changes 
Who  does  not  fear,  especially  now  in  this  season  of  danger! 
Long  since  my  house  was  smiling  upon  me  in  modish 

apparel ! 
Long  since  great  panes  of  glass  were  gleaming  in  all  of  the 

windows ! 
But  who   can  do    as  the   merchant  does,  who,  with  his 

resources, 

Knows  the  methods  as  well  by  which  the  best  is  arrived  at? 
Look  at  that  house  over  yonder, —  the  new  one ;  behold  with 

what  splendor 
'Gainst  the  background  of  green  stand  out  the  white  spirals 

of  stucco! 
Great  are  the  panes  in  the  windows;  and  how  the  glass 

sparkles  and  glitters, 
Casting  quite  into  the  shade  the  rest  of  the  market-place 

houses ! 

Yet  just  after  the  fire  were  our  two  houses  the  finest, 
This  of  the  Golden  Lion,  and  mine  of  the  sign  of  the  Angel. 
So  was  my  garden,  too,  throughout  the  whole  neighborhood 

famous : 
Every  traveller  stopped  and  gazed  through  the  red  pali- 

sadoes, 
Caught  by  the  beggars  there  carved  in  stone  and  the  dwarfs 

of  bright  colors. 
Then  whosoever  had  coffee  served  in  the  beautiful  grotto,— 


80  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Standing  there  now  all  covered  with  dust  and  partly  in 

ruins, — 
Used  to  be  mightily  pleased  with  the  glimmering  light  of 

the  mussels 
Spread  out  in  beautiful  order;  and  even  the  eye  of  the 

critic 
Used  by  the  sight  of  my  corals  and  potter's  ore  to  be 

dazzled. 
So   in  my  parlor,   too,   they   would    always   admire   the 

painting, 
Where  in  a  garden  are  gaily  dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen 

walking, 
And  with  their  taper  fingers  are  plucking  and  holding  the 

flowers. 
But  who  would  look  at  it  now!     In  sooth,  so  great  my 

vexation 
Scarcely  I  venture  abroad.     All  now  must  be  other  and 

tasteful, 
So  they  call  it;  and  white  are  the  laths  and  benches  of 

woodwork ; 
Everything   simple    and   smooth;    no    carving   longer   or 

gilding 
Can  be  endured,  and  the  woods  from  abroad  are  of  all  the 

most  costly. 

Well,  I,  too,  should  be  glad  could  I  get  for  myself  some- 
thing novel; 

Glad  to  keep  up  with  the  times,  and  be  changing  my  fur- 
niture often; 

Yet  must  we  all  be  afraid  of  touching  the  veriest  trifle. 
For  who  among  us  has  means  for  paying  the  work-people's 

wages? 

Lately  I  had  an  idea  of  giving  the  Archangel  Michael, 
Making  the  sign  of  my  shop,  another  fresh  coating  of 

gilding, 

And  to  the  terrible  dragon  about  his  feet  that  is  winding; 
But  I  e'en  let  him  stay  browned  as  he  is:  I  dreaded  the 

charges." 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  81 

EUTERPE 
MOTHER  AND  SON 
Thus  entertaining  themselves,  the  men  sat  talking.    The' 

mother 
Went   meanwhile   to   look   for  her   son  in   front  of  the 

dwelling, 
First  on  the  settle  of  stone,  whereon  'twas  his  wont  to  be 

seated. 
When  she  perceived  him  not  there,  she  went  farther  to 

look  in  the  stable, 
If   he   were    caring   perhaps   for   his   noble   horses,   the 

stallions, 
Which  he  as  colts  had  bought,  and  whose  care  he  intrusted 

to  no  one. 
And  by  the  servant  she  there  was  told :    He  is  gone  to  the 

garden. 
Then  with  a  nimble  step  she  traversed  the  long,  double 

court-yards, 
Leaving  the  stables  behind,  and  the  well-builded  barns,  too, 

behind  her; 
Entered  the  garden,   that  far   as  the  walls  of  the  city 

extended ; 
Walked  through  its  length,  rejoiced  as  she  went  in  every 

thing  growing; 
Set   upright    the    supports    on    which   were   resting   the 

branches 
Heavily  laden  with  apples,  and  burdening  boughs  of  the 

pear-tree. 
Next  some  caterpillars  removed  from  a  stout,  swelling 

cabbage ; 

For  an  industrious  woman  allows  no  step  to  be  wasted. 
Thus  was  she  come  at  last  to  the  end  of  the  far-reaching 

garden, 
Where  stood  the  arbor  embowered  in  woodbine;  nor  there 

did  she  find  him, 
More  than  she  had  hitherto  in  all  her  search  through  the 

garden. 
VOL.  1  —  6 


82  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

But  the  wicket  was  standing  ajar,  which  out  of  the  arbor, 
Once  by  particular  favor,  had  been  through  the  walls  of 

the  city 

Cut  by  a  grandsire  of  hers,  the  worshipful  burgomaster. 
So  the  now  dried-up  moat  she  next   crossed  over  with 

comfort, 

Where,  by  the  side  of  the  road,  direct  the  well-fenced  vine- 
yard, 

Eose  with  a  steep  ascent,  its  slope  exposed  to  the  sunshine. 
Up  this  also  she  went,  and  with  pleasure  as  she  was 

ascending 
Marked  the  wealth  of  the  clusters,  that  scarce  by  their 

leafage  were  hidden. 
Shady  and  covered  the  way  through  the  lofty  middlemost 

alley, 
Which  upon  steps  that  were  made  of  unhewn  blocks  you 

ascended. 
There  were  the  Muscatel,  and  there  were  the  Chasselas 

hanging 

Side  by  side,  of  unusual  size  and  colored  with  purple, 
All  set  out  with  the  purpose  of  decking  the  visitor 's  table ; 
While  with  single  vine-stocks  the  rest  of  the  hillside  was 

covered, 
Bearing  inferior  clusters,  from  which  the  delicate  wine 

comes. 

Thus  up  the  slopes  she  went,  enjoying  already  the  vintage, 
And  that  festive  day  on  which  the  whole  country,  rejoicing, 
Picks  and  tramples  the  grapes,  and  gathers  the  must  into 

vessels : 
Fireworks,  when  it  is  evening,  from  every  direction  and 

corner 

Crackle  and  blaze,  and  so  the  fairest  of  harvests  is  honored. 
But  more  uneasy  she  went,  her  son  after  twice  or  thrice 

calling, 

And  no  answer  receiving,  except  from  the  talkative  echo, 
That  with  many  repeats  rang  back  from  the  towers  of  the 

city. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  83 

Strange  it  was  for  her  to  seek  him ;  he  never  had  gone  to 

a  distance 

That  he  told  her  not  first,  to  spare  his  affectionate  mother 
Every  anxious  thought,  and  fear  that  aught  ill  had  befallen. 
Still  did  she  constantly  hope  that,  if  further  she  went,  she 

should  find  him; 
For  the  two  doors  of  the  vineyard,  the  lower  as  well  as 

the  upper, 
Both  were  alike  standing  open.     So  now  she  entered  the 

corn-field, 

That  with  its  broad  expanse  the  ridge  of  the  hill  covered  over. 
Still  was  the  ground  that  she  walked  on  her  own;  and  the 

crops  she  rejoiced  in, — 
All  of  them  still  were  hers,  and  hers  was  the  proud-waving 

grain,  too, 
Over  the  whole  broad  field  in  golden  strength  that  was 

stirring. 
Keeping  the  ridgeway,  the  footpath,  between  the  fields  she 

went  onward, 
Having  the  lofty  pear-tree  in  view,  which  stood  on  the 

summit, 
And  was  the  boundary-mark  of  the  fields  that  belonged  to 

her  dwelling. 
Who  might  have  planted  it,  none  could  know,  but  visible 

was  it 

Far  and  wide  through  the  country;  the  fruit  of  the  pear- 
tree  was  famous. 
'Neath  it  the  reapers  were  wont  to  enjoy  their  meal  at  the 

noon-day, 
And  the  shepherds  were  used  to  tend  their  flocks  in  its 

shadow. 
Benches  of  unhewn  stones  and  of  turf  they  found  set 

about  it. 
And  she  had  not  been  mistaken,  for  there  sat  her  Hermann, 

and  rested, — 

Sat  with  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  be  viewing 
the  landscape 


84  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

That  to  the  mountains  lay:  his  back  was  turned  to  his 

mother. 
Toward  Mm  softly  she  crept,  and  lightly  touched  on  the 

shoulder ; 
Quick  he  turned  himself  round;  there  were  tears  in  his 

eyes  as  he  met  her. 

"  Mother,  how  hast  thou  surprised  me!"  he  said  in  oon- 

fusion;  and  quickly 
Wiped  the  high-spirited  youth  his  tears  away.     But  the 

mother, 
*  *  What !  do  I  find  thee  weeping,  my  son ! ' '  exclaimed  in 

amazement. 
4 '  Nay,  that  is  not  like  thyself :  I  never  before  have  so  seen 

thee! 
Tell  me,  what  burdens  thy  heart  I  what  drives  thee  here, 

to  be  sitting 
,   Under  the  pear-tree  alone  ?    These  tears  in  thine  eyes,  what 

has  brought  them?" 

Then,  collecting  himself,  the  excellent  youth  made  her 
answer : 

"  Truly  no  heart  can  that  man  have  in  his  bosom  of  iron, 

Who  is  insensible  now  to  the  needs  of  this  emigrant  people ; 

He  has  no  brains  in  his  head,  who  not  for  his  personal 
safety, 

Not  for  his  fatherland's  weal,  in  days  like  the  present  is 
anxious. 

Deeply  my  heart  had  been  touched  by  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  the  morning; 

Then  I  went  forth  and  beheld  the  broad  and  glorious  land- 
scape 

Spreading  its  fertile  slopes  in  every  direction  about  us, 

Saw  the  golden  grain  inclining  itself  to  the  reapers, 

And  the  promise  of  well-filled  barns  from  the  plentiful  har- 
vest. 

But,  alas,  how  near  is  the  foe !    The  Rhine  with  its  waters 


LUDWIO   RlCHTEl 


MOTHER  AND  SON 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  85 

Guards  us,  indeed ;  but,  ah,  what  now  are  rivers  and  moun- 
tains 

'Gainst  that  terrible  people  that  onward  bears  like  a 
tempest ! 

For  they  summon  their  youths  from  every  quarter  together, 

Call  up  their  old  men  too,  and  press  with  violence  forward. 

Death  cannot  frighten  the  crowd:  one  multitude  follows 
another. 

And  shall  a  German  dare  to  linger  behind  in  his  homestead? 

Hopes  he  perhaps  to  escape  the  everywhere  threatened 
evil? 

Nay,  dear  mother,  I  tell  thee,  today  has  made  me  regretful 

That  I  was  lately  exempt,  when  out  of  our  townsmen  were 
chosen 

Those  who  should  serve  in  the  army.    An  only  son  I  am  truly, 

Also  our  business  is  great,  and  the  charge  of  our  household 
is  weighty. 

Yet  were  it  better,  I  deem,  in  the  front  to  offer  resistance 

There  on  the  border,  than  here  to  await  disaster  and 
bondage. 

So  has  my  spirit  declared,  and  deep  in  my  innermost  bosom 

Courage  and  longing  have  now  been  aroused  to  live  for  my 
country, 

Yea,  and  to  die,  presenting  to  others  a  worthy  example. 

If  but  the  strength  of  Germany's  youth  were  banded  to- 
gether 

There  on  the  frontier,  resolved  that  it  never  would  yield  to 
the  stranger, 

Ah,  he  should  not  on  our  glorious  soil  be  setting  his  foot- 
steps, 

Neither  consuming  before  our  eyes  the  fruit  of  our  labor, 

Ruling  our  men,  and  making  his  prey  of  our  wives  and  our 
daughters. 

Hark  to  me,  mother :  for  I  in  the  depths  of  my  heart  am 
determined 

Quickly  to  do,  and  at  once,  what  appears  to  me  right  and 
in  reason; 


86  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

For  he  chooses  not  always  the  best  who  longest  considers. 
Hearken,  I  shall  not  again  return  to  the  house ;  but  directly 
Go  from  this  spot  to  the  city,  and  there  present  to  the 

soldiers 

This  right  arm  and  this  heart,  to  be  spent  in  the  father- 
land's service. 

Then  let  my  father  say  if  there  be  no  feeling  of  honor 
Dwelling  within  my  breast,  nor  a  wish  to  raise  myself 
higher. ' ' 

Then  with  significant  words  spoke  the  good  and  intelli- 
gent mother, 
While  from  her  eyes  the  quick-starting  tears  were  silently 

falling : 
* '  Son,  what  change  has  come  o  'er  thee  today,  and  over  thy 

temper, 
That  thou  speakest  no  more,  as  thou  yesterday  didst,  and 

hast  always, 

Open  and  free,  to  thy  mother,  and  tellest  exactly  thy  wishes  I 
Any  one  else,  had  he  heard  thee  thus  speak,  would  in  sooth 

have  commended, 
And  this  decision  of  thine  would  have  highly  approved  as 

most  noble, 

Being  misled  by  thy  tone  and  by  thy  significant  language. 
Yet  have  I  nothing  but  censure  to  speak ;  for  better  I  know 

thee. 
Thou  concealest  thy  heart,  and  thy  thoughts  are  not  such 

as  thou  tellest. 
Well  do  I  know  that  it  is  not  the  drum,  not  the  trumpet 

that  calls  thee: 
Neither  in  uniform  wouldst  thou  figure  in  sight  of  the 

maidens ; 

Since,  for  all  thou  art  honest  and  brave,  it  is  thy  vocation 
Here  in  quiet  to  care  for  the  farm  and  provide  for  the 

household. 
Tell  me  honestly,  therefore,  what  goads  thee  to  such  a 

decision!" 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  87 

Earnestly  answered  the  son:  "  Nay,  thou  art  mistaken, 
dear  mother : 

One  day  is  not  like  another.  The  youth  matures  into  man- 
hood: 

Better  in  stillness  oft  ripening  to  deeds  than  when  in  the 
tumult 

Wildering  and  wild  of  existence,  that  many  a  youth  has 
corrupted. 

And,  for  as  still  as  I  am  and  was  always,  there  yet  in  my 
bosom 

Has  such  a  heart  been  shaped  as  abhors  all  wrong  and 
injustice ; 

And  I  have  learned  aright  between  worldly  things  to  dis- 
tinguish. 

Arm  and  foot,  besides,  have  been  mightily  strengthened  by 
labor. 

All  this,  I  feel,  is  true :  I  dare  with  boldness  maintain  it. 

Yet  dost  thou  blame  me  with  reason,  0  mother!  for  thou 
hast  surprised  me 

Using  a  language  half  truthful  and  half  that  of  dissimu- 
lation. 

For,  let  me  honestly  own, — it  is  not  the  near  danger  that 
calls  me 

Forth  from  my  father's  house;  nor  is  it  the  lofty  ambition 

Helpful  to  be  to  my  country,  and  terrible  unto  the 
foeman. 

They  were  but  words  that  I  spoke :  they  only  were  meant 
for  concealing 

Those  emotions  from  thee  with  which  my  heart  is  dis- 
tracted ; 

And  so  leave  me,  0  mother!  for,  since  the  wishes  are 
fruitless 

Which  in  my  bosom  I  cherish,  my  life  must  go  fruitlessly 
over. 

For,  as  I  know,  he  injures  himself  who  is  singly  devoted, 

When  for  the  common  cause  the  whole  are  not  working 
together. ' ' 


88  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

"Hesitate    not,"    replied    thereupon    the    intelligent 

mother, 
"  Every  thing  to  relate  me,  the  smallest  as  well  as  the 

greatest. 
Men  will  always  be  hasty,  their  thoughts  to  extremes  ever 

running : 

Easily  out  of  their  course  the  hasty  are  turned  by  a  hin- 
drance. 
Whereas  a  woman  is  clever  in  thinking  of  means,  and  will 

venture 

E  'en  on  a  roundabout  way,  adroitly  to  compass  her  object. 
Let  me  know  every  thing,  then;  say  wherefore  so  greatly 

excited 
As  I  ne'er  saw  thee  before,  why  thy  blood  is  coursing  so 

hotly, 
Wherefore,  against  thy  will,  tears  are  filling  thine  eyes  to 

o 'erflowing. " 

Then  he  abandoned  himself,  the  poor  boy,  to  his  sorrow, 

and  weeping, 
Weeping  aloud  on  his  kind  mother's  breast,  he  brokenly 

answered : 
"  Truly    my    father's    words    today    have    wounded    me 

sorely, — 
Words  which  I  have  not  deserved;  not  today,  nor  at  any 

time  have  I: 

For  it  was  early  my  greatest  delight  to  honor  my  parents. 
No  one  knew  more,  so  I  deemed,  or  was  wiser  than  those 

who  begot  me, 
And  had  with  strictness  ruled  throughout  the  dark  season 

of  childhood. 
Many  the  things,  in  truth,  I  with  patience  endured  from 

my  playmates, 
When  the  good-will  that  I  bore  them  they  often  requited 

with  malice. 
Often  I  suffered  their  flings  and  their  blows  to  pass  un- 

resented ; 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  89 

But  if  they  ventured  to  ridicule  father,  when  he  of  a 
Sunday 

Home   from   Church  would  come,  with  his   solemn  and 
dignified  bearing ; 

If  they  made  fun  of  his  cap-string,  or  laughed  at  the  flowers 
of  the  wrapper 

He  with  such  stateliness  wore,  which  was  given  away  but 
this  morning  — 

Threateningly  doubled  my  fist  in  an  instant ;  with  furious 
passion 

Fell  I  upon  them,  and  struck  out  and  hit,  assailing  them 
blindly, 

Seeing  not  where.    They  howled  as  the  blood  gushed  out 
from  their  noses : 

Scarcely  they  made  their  escape  from  my  passionate  kick- 
ing and  beating. 

Then,  as  I  older  grew,  I  had  much  to  endure  from  my  father ; 

Violent  words  he  oft  vented  on  me,  instead  of  on  others, 

When,  at  the  board's  last  session,  the  council  had  roused 
his  displeasure, 

And  I  was  made  to  atone  for  the  quarrels  and  wiles  of  his 
colleagues. 

Thou  has  pitied  me  often  thyself;  for  much  did  I  suffer, 

Ever  remembering  with  cordial  respect  the  kindness  of 
parents, 

Solely  intent  on  increasing  for  us  their  goods  and  pos- 
sessions, 

Much   denying   themselves   in   order  to    save   for  their 
children. 

But,  alas !  saving  alone,  for  the  sake  of  a  tardy  enjoyment,— 

That  is  not  happiness:  pile  upon  pile,  and  acre  on  acre, 

Make  us  not  happy,  no  matter  how  fair  our  estates  may  be 
rounded. 

For  the  father  grows  old,  and  with  him  will  grow  old  the 
children, 

Losing  the  joy  of  the  day,  and  bearing  the  care  of  to- 
morrow. 


90  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Look  thou  below,  and  see  how  before  us  in  glory  are  lying, 

Fair  and  abundant,  the  corn-fields ;  beneath  them,  the  vine- 
yard and  garden; 

Yonder  the  stables  and  barns;  our  beautiful  line  of  pos- 
sessions. 

But  when  I  look  at  the  dwelling  behind,  where  up  in  the 
gable 

We  can  distinguish  the  window  that  marks  my  room  in  the 
attic; 

When  I  look  back,  and  remember  how  many  a  night  from 
that  window 

I  for  the  moon  have  watched;  for  the  sun,  how  many  a 
morning ! 

When  the  healthful  sleep  of  a  few  short  hours  sufficed  me, — 

Ah,  so  lonely  they  seem  to  me  then,  the  chamber  and  court- 
yard, 

Garden  and  glorious  field,  away  o'er  the  hill  that  is 
stretching ; 

All  so  desert  before  me  lie :  'tis  the  wife  that  is  wanting. ' ' 

Thereupon  spoke  the  good  mother,  and  thus  with  intelli- 
gence answered: 

"  Son,  not  greater  thy  wish  to  bring  thee  a  bride  to  thy 
chamber, 

That  thou  mayst  find  thy  nights  a  beautiful  part  of  ex- 
istence, 

And  that  the  work  of  the  day  may  gain  independence  and 
freedom, 

Than  is  thy  father's  wish  too,  and  thy  mother's.  We 
always  have  counselled, — 

Yea,  we  have  even  insisted, —  that  thou  shouldst  elect  thee 
a  maiden. 

But  I  was  ever  aware,  and  now  my  heart  gives  me  assurance, 

That  till  the  hour  appointed  is  come,  and  the  maiden  ap- 
pointed 

Shall  with  the  hour  appear,  the  choice  will  be  left  for  the 
future, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  91 

While  more  strong  than  all  else  will  be  fear  of  grasping  the 
wrong  one. 

If  I  may  say  it,  my  son,  I  believe  thou  already  hast  chosen; 

For  thy  heart  has  been  touched,  and  been  made  more  than 
wontedly  tender. 

Speak  it  out  honestly,  then ;  for  my  soul  has  told  me  before- 
hand: 

Th#t  same  maiden  it  is,  the  exile,  whom  thou  hast  elected." 

"Thou  hast  said,  mother!"  the   son  thereupon  with 

eagerness  answered. 
' '  Yes,  it  is  she ;  and  if  I  today  as  my  bride  do  not  bring 

her 
Home  to  our  dwelling,  she  from  me  will  go,  perhaps  vanish 

for  ever, 
Lost  in  the  war's  confusion  and  sad  movings  hither  and 

thither. 

Mother,  forever  in  vain  would  then  our  abundant  pos- 
sessions 
Prosper  before  me,  and  seasons  to  come  be  in  vain  to  me 

fruitful. 
Yea,  I  should  hold  in  aversion  the  wonted  house  and  the 

garden : 
Even   my   mother's   love,    alas!   would   not   comfort  my 

sorrow. 

Every  tie,  so  I  feel  in  my  heart,  by  love  is  unloosened 
Soon  as  she  fastens  her  own;  and  not  the  maid  is  it  only 
Leaves  behind  father  and  mother,  to  follow  the  man  she 

has  chosen. 
He  too,  the  youth,  no  longer  knows  aught  of  mother  and 

father, 
When  he  the  maiden,  his  only  beloved,  sees  vanishing  from 

him. 
Suffer  me,  then,  to  go  hence  wherever  despair  shall  impel 

me: 
Since  by  my  father  himself  the  decisive  words  have  been 

spoken ; 


92  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Since  his  house  can  no  longer  be  mine  if  lie  shut  out  the 

maiden, 
Her  whom  alone  as  my  bride  I  desire  to  bring  to  our 

dwelling. ' ' 

Thereupon  quickly  made  answer  the  good  and  intelligent 

mother : 
"  How  like  to  rocks,  forsooth,  two  men  will  stand  facing 

each  other ! 
Proud  and  not  to  be  moved,  will  neither  draw  near  to  his 

fellow ; 

Neither  will  stir  his  tongue  to  utter  the  first  word  of  kind- 
ness. 

Therefore  I  tell  thee,  my  son,  a  hope  yet  lives  in  my  bosom, 
So  she  be  honest  and  good,  thy  father  will  let  thee  espouse 

her, 
Even  though  poor,  and  against  a  poor  girl  so  decisive  his 

sentence. 

Many  a  thing  he  is  wont  to  speak  out  in  his  violent  fashion 
Which  he  yet  never  performs;  and  so  what  he  denies  will 

consent  to. 

Yet  he  requires  a  kindly  word,  and  is  right  to  require  it: 
He  is  the  father!     Besides,  we  know  that  his  wrath  after 

dinner, — 
When  he  most  hastily  speaks,  and  questions  all  others' 

opinions, — 

Signifies  naught ;  the  full  force  of  his  violent  will  is  excited 
Then  by  the  wine,  which  lets  him  not  heed  the  language 

of  others; 
None  but  himself  does  he  see  and  feel.    But  now  is  come 

evening, 
Talk  upon  various  subjects  has  passed  between  him  and 

his  neighbors. 

Gentle,  he  is;  I  am  sure,  now  his  little  excitement  is  over, 
And  he  can  feel  how  unjust  his  passion  has  made  him  to 

others. 
Come,  let  us  venture  at  once :  success  is  alone  to  the  valiant ! 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  93 

Further  we  need  the  friends,  still  sitting  together  there 

with  him; 
And  in  especial  the  worthy  pastor  will  give  us  assistance." 

Thus  she  hastily  spoke,  and  up  from  the  stone  then 

arising, 
Drew  from  his  seat  her  son,  who  willingly  followed.    In 

silence 
Both  descended  the  hill,  their  important  purpose  revolving. 


POLYHYMNIA 

THE  CITIZEN  OF  THE  WORLD 

There    the    three   men,   however,    still   sat   conversing 

together, 

With  mine  host  of  the  Lion,  the  village  doctor,  and  pastor; 
And  their  talk  was  still  on  the  same  unvarying  subject, 
Turning  it  this  way  and  that,  and  viewing  from  every 

direction. 
But  with  his  sober  judgment  the  excellent  pastor  made 

answer : 
*  *  Here  will  I  not  contradict  you.    I  know  that  man  should 

be  always 
Striving  for  that  which  is  better;  indeed,  as  we  see,  he  is 

reaching 

Always  after  the  higher,  at  least  some  novelty  craving. 
But  be  careful  ye  go  not  too  far,  for  with  this  disposition 
Nature  has  given  us  pleasure  in  holding  to  what  is  familiar ; 
Taught  us  in  that  to  delight  to  which  we  have  long  been 

accustomed. 
Every  condition  is  good  that  is  founded  on  reason  and 

nature. 

Many  are  man's  desires,  yet  little  it  is  that  he  needeth; 
Seeing  the  days  are  short  and  mortal  destiny  bounded. 
Ne'er  would  I  censure  the  man  whom  a  restless  activity 

urges, 


94  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Bold  and  industrious,  over  all  pathways  of  land  and  of 

ocean, 

Ever  untiring  to  roam ;  who  takes  delight  in  the  riches, 
Heaping  in  generous  abundance   about  himself  and  his 

children. 

Yet  not  unprized  by  me  is  the  quiet  citizen  also, 
Making  the  noiseless  round  of  his  own  inherited  acres, 
Tilling  the  ground  as  the  ever-returning  seasons  command 

him. 

Not  with  every  year  is  the  soil  transfigured  about  him ; 
Not  in  haste  does  the  tree  stretch  forth,  as  soon  as  'tis 

planted, 

Full-grown  arms  toward  heaven  and  decked  with  plente- 
ous blossoms. 

No :  man  has  need  of  patience,  and  needful  to  him  are  also 
Calmness  and  clearness  of  mind,  and  a  pure  and  right 

understanding. 
Few  are  the  seeds  he  intrusts  to  earth's  all-nourishing 

bosom; 
Few  are  the  creatures  he  knows  how  to  raise  and  bring  to 

perfection. 

Centred  are  all  his  thoughts  alone  on  that  which  is  useful. 
Happy  to  whom  by  nature  a  mind  of  such  temper  is  given, 
For  he  supports  us  all!  And  hail,  to  the  man  whose 

abode  is 
Where  in  a  town  the  country  pursuits  with  the  city  are 

blended. 
On  him  lies  not  the  pressure  that  painfully  hampers  the 

farmer, 

Nor  is  he  carried  away  by  the  greedy  ambition  of  cities ; 
Where  they  of  scanty  possessions  too  often  are  given  to 

aping, 
Wives  and  daughters  especially,  those  who  are  higher  and 

richer. 

Blessed  be  therefore  thy  son  in  his  life  of  quiet  employment ; 
Blessed  the  wife,  of  like  mind  with  himself,  whom  he  one 

day  shall  choose  him.'* 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  95 

Thus  he  spoke;  and  scarce  had  he  ended  when  entered 

the  mother, 
Holding  her  son  by  the  hand,  and  so  led  him  up  to  her 

husband. 
"Father,"  she  said,  "how  oft  when  we  two  have  been 

chatting  together, 
Have  we  rejoiced  in  the  thought  of  Hermann's  future 

espousal, 
When  he  should  bring  his  bride  to  be  the  light  of  our 

dwelling ! 

Over  and  over  again  the  matter  we  pondered :  this  maiden 
Fixing  upon  for  him  first,  and  then  that,  with  the  gossip 

of  parents. 
But  that  day  is  now  come;  and  Heaven  at  last  has  the 

maiden 
Brought  to  him  hither,  and  shown  him;  and  now  his  heart 

has  decided. 
Said  we  not  always  then  he  should  have  his  own  choice  in 

the  matter? 
Was  it  not  just  now  thy  wish  that  he  might  with  lively 

affection 
Feel  himself  drawn  to  some  maiden?    The  hour  is  come 

that  we  hoped  for. 
Yes;  he  has  felt  and  has  chosen  and  come  to  a  manly 

decision. 
That  same  maiden  it  is  that  met  him  this  morning,  the 

stranger : 
Say  he  may  have  her,  or  else,  as  he  swears,  his  life  shall 

be  single." 

"  Give  her  me,  father,"  so  added  the  son :  "  my  heart  has 

elected 

Clear  and  sure;  she  will  be  to  you  both  the  noblest  of 
daughters." 

But  the  father  was  silent.    Then  hastily  rose  the  good 
pastor, 


96  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Took  up  the  word  and   said:     "The  moment  alone  is 

decisive ; 

Fixes  the  life  of  man,  and  his  future  destiny  settles. 
After  long  taking  of  counsel,  yet  only  the  work  of  a  moment 
Every  decision  must  be ;  and  the  wise  alone  seizes  the  right 

one. 

Dangerous  always  it  is  comparing  the  one  with  the  other 
When  we  are  making  our  choice,  and  so  confusing  our 

feelings. 
Hermann  is  pure.    From  childhood  up  I  have  known  him, 

and  never 
E  'en  as  a  boy  was  he  wont  to  be  reaching  for  this  and  the 

other : 

What  he  desired  was  best  for  him  too,  and  he  held  to  it  firmly. 
Be  not  surprised  and  alarmed  that  now  has  appeared  of  a 

sudden, 
What  thou  hast  wished  for  so  long.    It  is  true  that  the 

present  appearance 

Bears  not  the  form  of  the  wish,  exactly  as  thou  hadst  con- 
ceived it : 
For  our  wishes  oft  hide  from  ourselves  the  object  we  wish 

for; 
Gifts  come  down  from  above  in  the  shapes  appointed  by 

Heaven. 
Therefore  misjudge  not  the  maiden  who  now  of  thy  dearly 

beloved, 

Good  and  intelligent  son  has  been  first  to  touch  the  affec- 
tions : 

Happy  to  whom  at  once  his  first  love 's  hand  shall  be  given, 
And  in  whose  heart  no  tenderest  wish  must  secretly 

languish. 
Yes:  his  whole  bearing  assures  me  that  now  his  fate  is 

decided. 

Genuine  love  matures  in  a  moment  the  youth  into  manhood ; 
He  is  not  easily  moved ;  and  I  fear  that  if  this  be  refused  him, 
Sadly  his  years  will  go  by,  those  years  that  should  be  the 

fairest. ' ' 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  97 

Straightway  then  in  a  thoughtful  tone  the  doctor  made 

answer, 
On  whose  tongue  for  a  long  time  past  the  words  had  been 

trembling : 
"  Pray  let  us  here  as  before  pursue  the  safe  middle  course 

only. 

Make  haste  slowly:  that  was  Augustus  the  emperor's  motto. 
Willingly  I  myself  place  at  my  well-beloved  neighbor's 

disposal, 

Ready  to  do  him  what  service  I  can  with  my  poor  under- 
standing. 

Youth  most  especially  stands  in  need  of  some  one  to  guide  it. 
Let  me  therefore  go  forth  that  I  may  examine  the  maiden, 
And  may  question  the  people  among  whom  she  lives  and 

who  know  her. 
Me  'tis  not  easy  to  cheat:  I  know  how  words  should  be 

valued." 

Straightway  the  son  broke  in,  and  with  winged  words 

made  he  answer: 
' '  Do  so,  neighbor,  and  go  and  make  thine  inquiries ;  but 

with  thee 
I  should  be  glad  if  our  minister  here  were  joined  in  the 

errand : 

Two  such  excellent  men  would  be  irreproachable  judges. 
0  my  father!  believe  me,  she's  none  of  those  wandering 

maidens, 
Not  one  of  those  who  stroll  through  the  land  in  search 

of  adventure, 
And  who   seek  to  ensnare  inexperienced  youth  in  their 

meshes. 

No :  the  hard  fortunes  of  war,  that  universal  destroyer, 
Which  is  convulsing  the  earth  and  has  hurled  from  its  deep 

foundations 

Many  a  structure  already,  have  sent  the  poor  girl  into  exile. 
Are  not  now  men  of  high  birth,  the  most  noble,  in  misery 

roaming? 

VOL.  I  —  7 


98  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Princes  fly  in  disguise  and  kings  are  in  banishment  living. 

So  alas !  also  is  she,  the  best  among  all  of  her  sisters, 

Driven  an  exile  from  home;  yet,  her  personal  sorrows 
forgetting, 

She  is  devoted  to  others;  herself  without  help,  she  is 
helpful. 

Great  is  the  want  and  the  suffering  over  the  earth  that  are 
spreading : 

Shall  not  some  happiness,  too,  be  begotten  of  all  this 
affliction, 

And  shall  not  I  in  the  arms  of  my  wife,  my  trusted  com- 
panion, 

Look  back  with  joy  to  the  war,  as  do  ye  to  the  great  con- 
flagration I ' ' 

Outspoke  the  father  then  in  a  tone  of  decision,  and 

answered : 
"  Strangely  thy  tongue  has  been  loosened,  my  son,  which 

many  a  year  past 
Seemed  to  have  stuck  in  thy  mouth,  and  only  to  move  on 

compulsion ! 
I  must  experience  today,  it  would  seem,  what  threatens  all 

fathers, 
That  the  son's  headstrong  will  the  mother  with  readiness 

favors, 
Showing  too  easy  indulgence;  and  every  neighbor  sides 

with  them 
When  there  is  aught  to  be  carried  against  the  father  and 

husband. 
But  I  will  not  oppose  you,  thus  banded  together :  how  could 

I? 

For  I  already  perceive  here  tears  and  defiance  before- 
hand. 
Go  ye  therefore,  inquire,  in  God's  name,  bring  me  the 

daughter. 
But  if  not  so,  then  the  boy  is  to  think  no  more  of  the 

maiden." 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  99 

Thus  the  father.    The  son  cried  out  with  joyful  demeanor, 
"  Ere  it  is  evening  the  noblest  of  daughters  shall  hither  be 

brought  you, 
Such  as  no  man  with  sound  sense  in  his  breast  can  fail  to 

be  pleased  with. 

Happy,  I  venture  to  hope,  will  be  also  the  excellent  maiden. 
Yes;  she  will  ever  be  grateful  for  having  had  father  and 

mother 

Given  once  more  in  you,  and  such  as  a  child  most  delights  in. 
Now  I  will  tarry  no  longer,  but  straightway  harness  the 

horses, 
Drive  forth  our  friends  at  once  on  the  footsteps  of  my 

beloved, 
Leaving  them  then  to  act  for  themselves,  as  their  wisdom 

shall  dictate, 
Guide  myself  wholly,  I  promise,  according  to  what  they 

determine, 
And,  until  I  may  call  her  my  own,  ne'er  look  on  the 

maiden." 
Thus  he  went  forth:  the  others  meanwhile  remained  in 

discussion, 

Rapid  and  earnest,  considering  deeply  their  great  under- 
taking. 

Hermann  hasted  straightway  to  the  stable,  where  quietly 

standing 

Found  he  the  spirited  stallions,  the  clean  oats  quickly  de- 
vouring, 
And  the  well-dried  hay  that  was  cut  from  the  richest  of 

meadows. 

On  them  without  delay  the  shining  bits  he  adjusted, 
Hastily  drew  the  straps  through  the  buckles  of  beautiful 

plating, 

Firmly  fastened  then  the  long  broad  reins,  and  the  hor 
Led  without  to  the  court-yard,  whither  the  willing  assistant 
Had  with  ease,  by  the  pole,  already  drawn  forward  the 
carriage. 


100  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Next  to  the  whipple-tree  they  with  care  by  the  neatly  kept 

traces 
Joined  the  impetuous   strength  of  the  freely  travelling 

horses. 
Whip  in  hand  took  Hermann  his  seat  and  drove  under  the 

doorway. 
Soon  as  the  friends  straightway  their  commodious  places 

had  taken, 

Quickly  the  carriage  rolled  off,  and  left  the  pavement  be- 
hind it, 
Left  behind  it  the  walls  of  the  town  and  the  fresh-whitened 

towers. 
Thus  drove  Hermann  on  till  he  came  to  the  well-known 

causeway. 
Rapidly,  loitering  nowhere,  but  hastening  up  hill  and  down 

hill. 
But  as  he  now  before  him  perceived  the  spire   of  the 

village, 

And  no  longer  remote  the  garden-girt  houses  were  lying, 
Then  in  himself  he  thought  that  here  he  would  rein  up  the 

horses. 

Under  the  solemn  shade  of  lofty  linden-trees  lying, 
Which  for  centuries  past  upon  this  spot  had  been  rooted, 
Spread  in  front  of  the  village  a  broad  and  grass-covered 

common, 
Favorite  place  of  resort  for  the  peasants  and  neighboring 

townsfolk. 
Here,  at  the  foot  of  the  trees,  sunk  deep  in  the  ground  was 

a  well-spring; 
When  you  descended  the  steps,  stone  benches  you  found  at 

the  bottom, 
Stationed  about  the  spring,  whose  pure,  living  waters  were 

bubbling 
Ceaselessly  forth,  hemmed  in  by  low  walls  for  convenience 

of  drawing. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  101 

Hermann  resolved  that  here  he  would  halt,  with  his  horses 

and  carriage, 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees.    He  did  so,  and  said  to  the 

others : 

' '  Here  alight,  my  friends,  and  go  your  ways  to  discover 
Whether  the  maiden  in  truth  be  worthy  the  hand  that  I  offer. 
That  she  is  so,  I  believe;  naught  new  or  strange  will  ye 

tell  me. 
Had  I  to  act  for  myself,  I  should  go  with  speed  to  the 

village, 
Where  a  few  words  from  the  maiden's  own  lips  should 

determine  my  fortune. 

Ye  will  with  readiness  single  her  out  from  all  of  the  others, 
For  there  can  scarcely  be  one  that  to  her  may  be  likened 

in  bearing. 

But  I  will  give  you,  besides,  her  modest  attire  for  a  token : 
Mark,  then,  the  stomacher's  scarlet,  that  sets  off  the  arch 

of  her  bosom, 
Prettily  laced,  and  the  bodice  of  black  fitting  close  to  her 

figure; 

Neatly  the  edge  of  her  kerchief  is  plaited  into  a  ruffle, 
Which  with  a   simple  grace  her  chin's   rounded  outline 

encircles ; 

Freely  and  lightly  rises  above  it  the  head's  dainty  oval; 
And  her  luxuriant  hair  over  silver  bodkins  is  braided; 
Down  from  under  her  bodice,  the  full,  blue  petticoat  falling, 
Wraps  itself,  when  she  is  walking,  about  her  neatly  shaped 

ankles. 
Yet  one  thing  will  I  say,  and  would  make  it  my  earnest 

petition, — 
Speak  not  yourselves  with  the  maiden,  nor  let  your  intent 

be  discovered; 
Rather  inquire  of  others,  and  hearken  to  what  they  may  tell 

you. 

When  ye  have  tidings  enough  to  satisfy  father  and  mother, 
Then  return  to  me  here,  and  we  will  consider  what  further. 
So  did  I  plan  it  all  out  in  my  mind  while  driving  you  hither." 


102  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Thus  he  spoke.    The  friends  thereupon  went  their  way 

to  the  village, 
Where,  in  the  houses  and  gardens  and  barns,  the  people 

were  swarming; 
Wagons  on  wagons  stood  crowded  together  along  the  broad 

highway. 
Men  for  the  harnessed  horses   and   lowing   cattle  were 

caring, 
While  the  women  were  busy  in  drying  their  clothes  on  the 

hedges, 

And  in  the  running  brook  the  children  were  merrily  splash- 
ing. 
Making  their  way  through  the  pressure  of  wagons,  of  people 

and  cattle, 
Went  the  commissioned  spies,  and  to  right  and  to  left  looked 

about  them, 
If  they  a  figure  might  see  that  answered  the  maiden's 

description ; 

But  not  one  of  them  all  appeared  the  beautiful  damsel. 
Denser  soon  grew  the  press.    A  contest  arose  round  the 

wagons 
'Mongst  the  threatening  men,  wherein  blended  the  cries  of 

the  women. 
Rapidly  then  to  the  spot,  and  with  dignified  step,  came  an 

elder, 
Joined  the  clamoring  group,  and  straightway  the  uproar 

was  silenced, 
As  he  commanded  peace,  and  rebuked  with  a   fatherly 

sternness. 
"  Has,  then,  misfortune,"  he  cried,  "  not  yet  so  bound  us 

together, 
That  we  have  finally  learned  to  bear  and  forbear  one 

another, 
Though  each  one,  it  may  be,  do  not  measure  his  share  of  the 

labor! 
He  that  is  happy,  forsooth,  is  contentious !   Will  sufferings 

never 


•-T  jsr  • 


LUDWIG   RlCHTEt 


THE  EMIGRANTS  IN  THE  VILLAGE 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  103 

Teach  you  to  cease  from  your  brawls  of  old  between  brother 

and  brother! 
Grudge  not  one  to  another  a  place  on  the  soil  of  the 

stranger ; 
Rather  divide  what  ye  have,  as  yourselves  ye  would  hope  to 

find  mercy. ' ' 

Thus  spoke  the  man  and  all  became  silent:  restored  to 
good  humor, 

Peaceably  then  the  people  arranged  their  cattle  and 
wagons. 

But  when  the  clergyman  now  had  heard  what  was  said  by 
the  stranger, 

And  had  the  steadfast  mind  of  the  foreign  justice  dis- 
covered, 

He  to  the  man  drew  near  and  with  words  of  meaning  ad- 
dressed him : 

"  True  it  is,  father,  that  when  in  prosperity  people  are 
living, 

Feeding  themselves  from  the  earth,  which  far  and  wide 
opens  her  bosom, 

And  in  the  years  and  months  renews  the  coveted  bless- 
ings,— 

All  goes  on  of  itself,  and  each  himself  deems  the  wisest, 

Deems  the  best,  and  so  they  continue  abiding  together, 

He  of  greatest  intelligence  ranking  no  higher  than  others ; 

All  that  occurs,  as  if  of  itself,  going  quietly  forward. 

But  let  disaster  unsettle  the  usual  course  of  existence, 

Tear  down  the  buildings  about  us,  lay  waste  the  crops  and 
the  garden, 

Banish  the  husband  and  wife  from  their  old,  familiar-grown 
dwelling, 

Drive  them  to  wander  abroad  through  nights  and  days  of 
privation, — 

Then,  ah  then  I  we  look  round  us  to  see  what  man  is  the 
wisest, 

And  no  longer  in  vain  his  glorious  words  will  be  spoken. 


104  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Tell  me,  art  thou  not  judge  among  this  fugitive  people, 
Father,  who  thus  in  an  instant  canst  bid  their  passions  be 

quiet? 

Thou  dost  appear  today  as  one  of  those  earliest  leaders, 
Who  through  deserts  and  wanderings  guided  the  emigrant 

nations. 
Yea,  I  could  even  believe  I  were  speaking  with  Joshua  or 

Moses. " 

Then  with  serious  look  the  magistrate  answered  him, 

saying : 
"  Truly  our  times  might  well  be  compared  with  all  others 

in  strangeness, 

Which  are  in  history  mentioned,  profane  or  sacred  tra- 
dition ; 
For  who  has  yesterday  lived  and  today  in  times  like  the 

present, 

He  has  already  lived  years,  events  are  so  crowded  together. 
If  I  look  back  but  a  little,  it  seems  that  my  head  must  be 

hoary 
Under  the  burden  of  years,  and  yet  my  strength  is  still 

active. 
Well  may  we  of  this  day  compare  ourselves  unto  that 

people 
Who,  from  the  burning  bush,  beheld  in  the  hour  of  their 

danger 
God  the  Lord:  we  also  in  cloud  and  in  fire  have  beheld 

Him." 

Seeing  the  priest  was  inclined  to  speak  yet  more  with 

the  stranger, 
And  was  desirous  of  learning  his  story  and  that  of  his 

people, 

Privately  into  his  ear  his  companion  hastily  whispered : 
' '  Talk  with  the  magistrate  further,  and  lead  him  to  speak 

of  the  maiden. 
I,  however,  will  wander  in  search,  and  as  soon  as  I  find  her, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  105 

Come  and  report  to  thee  here."     The  minister  nodded, 

assenting; 
And  through  the  gardens,  hedges,  and  barns,  went  the  spy 

on  his  errand. 


CLIO 
THE  AGE 

Now  when  the  foreign  judge  had  been  by  the  minister 

questioned 
As  to  his  people's  distress,  and  how  long  their  exile  had 

lasted, 
Thus  made  answer  the  man :    * '  Of  no  recent  date  are  our 

sorrows ; 
Since  of  the  gathering  bitter  of  years  our  people  have 

drunken, — 
Bitterness  all  the  more  dreadful  because  such  fair  hope 

had  been  blighted. 
Who  will  pretend  to  deny  that  his  heart  swelled  high  in  his 

bosom, 

And  that  his  freer  breast  with  purer  pulses  was  beating, 
When  we  beheld  the  new  sun  arise  in  his  earliest  splendor, 
When  of  the  rights  of  men  we  heard,  which  to  all  should 

be  common, 

Were  of  a  righteous  equality  told,  and  inspiriting  freedom! 
Every  one  hoped  that  then  he  should  live  his  own  life,  and 

the  fetters, 
Binding   the   various   lands,   appeared   their   hold  to   be 

loosing, — 

Fetters  that  had  in  the  hand  of  sloth  been  held  and  self- 
seeking. 

Looked  not  the  eyes  of  all  nations,  throughout  that  calam- 
itous season, 
Toward  the  world's  capital  city,  for  so  it  had  long  been 

considered, 
And   of   that  glorious  title  was  now,   more   than  ever, 

deserving? 


106  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Were  not  the  names  of  those  men  who  first  delivered  the 
message, 

Names  to  compare  with  the  highest  that  under  the  heavens 
are  spoken? 

Did  not,  in  every  man,  grow  courage  and  spirit  and  lan- 
guage! 

And,  as  neighbors,  we,  first  of  all,  were  zealously  kindled. 

Thereupon  followed  the  war,  and  armed  bodies  of  French- 
men 

Pressed  to  us  nearer;  yet  nothing  but  friendship  they 
seemed  to  be  bringing; 

Ay,  and  they  brought  it  too ;  for  exalted  the  spirit  within 

»      them : 

They  with  rejoicing  the  festive  trees  of  liberty  planted, 

Promising  every  man  what  was  his  own,  and  to  each  his 
own  ruling. 

High  beat  the  heart  of  the  youths,  and  even  the  aged  were 
joyful; 

Gaily  the  dance  began  about  the  newly  raised  standard. 

Thus  had  they  speedily  won,  these  overmastering  French- 
men, 

First  the  spirits  of  men  by  the  fire  and  dash  of  their 
bearing, 

Then  the  hearts  of  the  women  with  irresistible  graces. 

Even  the  pressure  of  hungry  war  seemed  to  weigh  on  us 
lightly, 

So  before  our  vision  did  hope  hang  over  the  future, 

Luring  our  eyes  abroad  into  newly  opening  pathways. 

Oh,  how  joyful  the  time  when  with  her  beloved  the  maiden 

Whirls  in  the  dance,  the  longed-for  day  of  their  union 
awaiting ! 

But  more  glorious  that  day  on  which  to  our  vision  the 
highest 

Heart  of  man  can  conceive  seemed  near  and  attainable  to 
us. 

Loosened  was  every  tongue,  and  men  —  the  aged,  the  strip- 
ling— 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  107 

Spoke  aloud  in  words  that  were  full  of  high  feeling  and 

wisdom. 

Soon,  however,  the  sky  was  o  'ercast.  A  corrupt  generation 
Fought  for  the  right  of  dominion,  unworthy  the  good  to 

establish ; 
So  that  they  slew  one  another,  their  new-made  neighbors 

and  brothers 
Held  in  subjection,  and  then  sent  the  self -seeking  masses 

against  us. 

Chiefs  committed  excesses  and  wholesale  plunder  upon  us, 
"While  those  lower  plundered  and  rioted  down  to  the  lowest : 
Every  one  seemed  but  to  care  that  something  be  left  for 

the  morrow. 

Great  past  endurance  the  need,  and  daily  grew  the  oppres- 
sion: 
They  were  the  lords  of  the  day ;  there  was  none  to  hear  our 

complaining. 

Then  fell  trouble  and  rage  upon  even  the  quietest  spirit. 
One  thought  only  had  all,  and  swore  for  their  wrongs  to 

have  vengeance, 

And  for  the  bitter  loss  of  their  hope  thus  doubly  deluded. 
Presently  Fortune  turned  and  declared  on  the  side  of  the 

German, 

And  with  hurried  marches  the  French  retreated  before  us. 
Ah!  then  as  never  before  did  we  feel  the  sad  fortunes  of 

warfare : 
He  that  is  victor  is  great  and  good,—  or  at  least  he  appears 

so, — 

And  he,  as  one  of  his  own,  will  spare  the  man  he  has  con- 
quered, 
Him  whose  service  he  daily  needs,  and  whose  property 

uses. 

But  no  law  the  fugitive  knows,  save  of  self-preservation, 
And,  with  a  reckless  greed,  consumes  all  the  possessions 

about  him ; 
Then  are  his  passions  also  inflamed:  the  despair  that  is  in 

him 


108  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Out  of  his  heart  breaks  forth,  and  takes  shape  in  criminal 

action. 
Nothing  is  further  held  sacred ;  but  all  is  for  plunder.    His 

craving 
Turns  in  fury  on  woman,  and  pleasure  is  changed  into 

horror. 
Death  he  sees  everywhere  round  him,  and  madly  enjoys  his 

last  moments, 

Taking  delight  in  blood,  in  the  shriekings  of  anguish  ex- 
ulting. 

Thereupon  fiercely  arose  in  our  men  the  stern  resolution 
What  had  been  lost  to  avenge,  and  defend  what'er  was 

remaining. 
Every  man  sprang  to  his  arms,  by  the  flight  of  the  foeman 

encouraged, 
And  by  his  blanching  cheeks,  and  his  timorous,  wavering 

glances. 

Ceaselessly  now  rang  out  the  clanging  peal  of  the  tocsin. 
Thought  of  no  danger  to  come  restrained  their  furious 

anger. 
Quick  into  weapons  of  war  the  husbandman's  peaceful 

utensils 
All  were  converted ;  dripped  with  blood  the  scythe  and  the 

ploughshare. 
Quarter   was    shown    to    none:    the    enemy    fell    without 

mercy. 

Fury  everywhere  raged  and  the  cowardly  cunning  of  weak- 
ness. 

Ne'er  may  I  men  so  carried  away  by  injurious  passion 
See  again!  the  sight  of  the  raging  wild  beast  would  be 

better. 
Let  not  man  prattle  of  freedom,  as  if  himself  he  could 

govern ! 

Soon  as  the  barriers  are  torn  away,  then  all  of  the  evil 
Seems  let  loose,  that  by  law  had  been  driven  deep  back  into 

corners." 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  109 

"Excellent  man!"  thereupon  with  emphasis  answered 

the  pastor: 
"  Though  thou  misjudgest  mankind,  yet  can  I  not  censure 

thee  for  it. 
Evil  enough,  I  confess,  thou  hast  had  to  endure  from  man's 

passions. 

Yet  wouldst  thou  look  behind  over  this  calamitous  season, 
Thou  wouldst  acknowledge  thyself  how  much  good  thou 

also  hast  witnessed. 
How  many  excellent  things  that  would  in  the  heart  have 

lain  hidden, 
Had  not  danger  aroused  them,  and  did  not  necessity's 

pressure 
Bring  forth  the  angel  in  man,  and  make  him  a  god  of 

deliv  'ranee. ' ' 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  reverend  magistrate, 

smiling : 
*  *  There  thou  remindest    me  aptly  of  how  we  console  the 

poor  fellow, 
After  his  house  has  been  burned,  by  recounting  the  gold 

and  the  silver 
Melted  and  scattered  abroad  in  the  rubbish,  that  still  is 

remaining. 

Little  enough,  it  is  true ;  but  even  that  little  is  precious. 
Then  will  the  poor  wretch  after  it  dig  and  rejoice  if  he 

find  it. 
Thus  I  likewise  with  happier  thoughts  will  gratefully  turn 

me 
Toward  the  few  beautiful  deeds  of  which  I  preserve  the 

remembrance. 

Yes,  I  will  not  deny,  I  have  seen  old  quarrels  forgotten, 
111  to  avert  from  the  state;  I  also  have  witnessed  how 

friendship, 

Love  of  parent  and  child,  can  impossibilities  venture; 
Seen  how  the  stripling  at  once  matured  into  man;  how 

the  aged 


110  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Grew  again  young;  and  even  the  child  into  youth  was 

developed, 

Yea,  and  the  weaker  sex  too,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  call  it, 
Showed  itself  brave   and   strong   and   ready   for   every 

emergence. 
Foremost   among  them   all,   one   beautiful   deed   let  me 

mention, 
Bravely  performed  by  the  hand  of  a  girl,  an  excellent 

maiden, 
Who,  with  those  younger  than  she,  had  been  left  in  charge 

of  a  farmhouse, 

Since  there,  also,  the  men  had  marched  against  the  invader. 
Suddenly  fell  on  the  house  a  fugitive  band  of  marauders, 
Eager  for  booty,  who  crowded  straightway  to  the  room  of 

the  women. 
There  they  beheld  the  beautiful  form  of  the  fully  grown 

maiden, 
Looked  on  the  charming  young  girls,  who  rather  might  still 

be  called  children. 
Savage  desire   possessed  them;  at  once  with  merciless 

passion 
They  that  trembling  band  assailed  and  the  high-hearted 

maiden. 
But  she  had  snatched  in  an  instant  the  sword  of  one  from 

its  scabbard, 
Felled  him  with  might  to  the  ground,  and  stretched  him 

bleeding  before  her. 
Then   with  vigorous   strokes   she  bravely  delivered   the 

maidens, 
Smiting  yet  four  of  the  robbers ;  who  saved  themselves  only 

by  flying. 
Then  she  bolted  the  gates,  and,  armed,  awaited  assistance.'* 

Now  when  this  praise  the  minister  heard  bestowed  on 

the  maiden, 

Rose  straightway  for  his  friend  a  feeling  of  hope  in  his 
bosom, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA 

And  he  had  opened  his  lips  to  inquire  what  further  befell 

her, 
If  on  this  mournful  flight  she  now  with  her  people  were 

present ; 
When  with  a  hasty  step  the  village  doctor  approached 

them, 
Twitched  the  clergyman's  coat,  and  said  in  his  ear  in  a 

whisper : 
"  I  have  discovered  the  maiden  at  last  among  several 

hundreds ; 
By  the  description  I  knew  her,  so  come,  let  thine  own  eyes 

behold  her! 
Bring  too  the  magistrate  with  thee,  that  so  we  may  hear 

him  yet  further." 
But  as  they  turned  to  go,  the  justice  was  summoned  to  leave 

them, 
Sent  for  by  some  of  his  people  by  whom  his  counsel  was 

needed. 
Straightway  the  preacher,  however,  the  lead  of  the  doctor 

had  followed 
Up  to  a  gap  in  the  fence  where  his  finger  he  meaningly 

pointed. 
"  Seest  thou  the  maiden!"  he  said:  "  she  has  made  some 

clothes  for  the  baby 
Out  of  the  well-known  chintz, —  I  distinguish  it  plainly ;  and 

further 
There  are  the  covers  of  blue  that  Hermann  gave  in  his 

bundle. 
Well  and  quickly,  forsooth,  she  has  turned  to  advantage  the 

presents. 
Evident  tokens  are  these,  and  all  else  answers  well  the 

description. 
Mark  how  the  stomacher's  scarlet  sets  off  the  arch  of  her 

bosom, 
Prettily  laced,  and  the  bodice  of  black  fits  close  to  her 

figure; 
Neatly  the  edge  of  her  kerchief  is  plaited  into  a  ruffle, 


112  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Which,  with  a  simple  grace,  her  chin's  rounded  outline 

encircles ; 

Freely  and  lightly  rises  above  it  the  head's  dainty  oval, 
And  her  luxuriant  hair  over  silver  bodkins  is  braided. 
Now  she  is  sitting,  yet  still  we  behold  her  majestical 

stature, 
And  the  blue  petticoat's  ample  plaits,  that  down  from  her 

bosom 

Hangs  in  abundant  folds  about  her  neatly  shaped  ankles, 
She  without  question  it  is;  come,  therefore,  and  let  us 

discover 
Whether  she  honest  and  virtuous  be,  a  housewifely  maiden. " 

Then,  as  the  seated  figure  he  studied,  the  pastor  made 

answer : 
1 '  Truly,  I  find  it  no  wonder  that  she  so  enchanted  the 

stripling, 
Since,  to  a  man's  experienced  eye,  she  seems  lacking  in 

nothing. 
Happy  to  whom  mother  Nature  a  shape  harmonious  has 

given! 
Such  will  always  commend  him,  and  he  can  be  nowhere  a 

stranger. 

All  approach  with  delight,  and  all  are  delighted  to  linger, 
If  to  the  outward  shape  correspond  but  a  courteous  spirit. 
I  can  assure  thee,  in  her  the  youth  has  found  him  a  maiden, 
Who,  in  the  days  to  come,  his  life  shall  gloriously  brighten, 
Standing  with  womanly  strength  in  every  necessity  by  him. 
Surely  the  soul  must  be  pure  that  inhabits  a  body  so  perfect, 
And  of  a  happy  old  age  such  vigorous  youth  is  the  promise. ' ' 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  doctor  in  language  of 

caution : 

"  Often  appearances  cheat;  I  like  not  to  trust  to  externals. 
For  I  have  oft  seen  put  to  the  test  the  truth  of  the  proverb : 
Till  thou  a  bushel  of  salt  with  a  new  acquaintance  hast 

eaten, 


LUDWIG    RlCHTER 

THE  PARSON  AND  THE  APOTHECARY  WATCH  DOROTHEA 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  113 

Be  not  too  ready  to  trust  Mm;  for  time  alone  renders  thee 

certain 
How  ye  shall  fare  with  each  other,  and  how  well  your 

friendship  shall  prosper. 
Let  us  then  rather  at  first  make  inquiries  among  the  good 

people 
By  whom  the  maiden  is  known,  and  who  can  inform  us 

about  her.*' 

"  Much  I  approve  of  thy  caution,"  the  preacher  replied 

as  he  followed. 

' '  Not  for  ourselves  is  the  suit,  and  'tis  delicate  wooing  for 
others. ' ' 

Toward  the  good  magistrate,  then,  the  men  directed 

their  footsteps, 

Who  was  again  ascending  the  street  in  discharge  of  his 
duties. 

Him  the  judicious  pastor  at  once  addressed  and  with 
caution. 

'  *  Look !  we  a  maiden  have  here  descried  in  the  neighbor- 
ing garden, 

Under  an  apple-tree  sitting,  and  making  up  garments  for 
children 

Out  of  second-hand  stuff  that  somebody  doubtless  has 
given; 

And  we  were  pleased  with  her  aspect :  she  seems  like  a  girl 
to  be  trusted. 

Tell  us  whatever  thou  knowest:  we  ask  it  with  honest 
intentions." 

Soon  as  the  magistrate  nearer  had  come,  and  looked  into 

the  garden, 
"  Her  thou  knowest  already,"  he  said;  "  for  when  I  was 

telling 
Of  the  heroic  deed  performed  by  the  hand  of  that  maiden, 

VOL.  1  —  8 


114  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

When  she  snatched  the  man's  sword,  and  delivered  herself 
and  her  charges, 

This  was  the  one !  she  is  vigorous  born,  as  thou  seest  by  her 
stature ; 

Yet  she  is  good  as  strong,  for  her  aged  kinsman  she  tended 

Until  the  day  of  his  death,  which  was  finally  hastened  by 
sorrow 

Over  his  city's  distress,  and  his  own  endangered  pos- 
sessions. 

Also,  with  quiet  submission,  she  bore  the  death  of  her  lover, 

Who  a  high-spirited  youth,  in  the  earliest  flush  of  ex- 
citement, 

Kindled  by  lofty  resolve  to  fight  for  a  glorious  freedom, 

Hurried  to  Paris,  where  early  a  terrible  death  he  en- 
countered. 

For  as  at  home,  so  there,  his  foes  were  deceit  and 
oppression." 

Thus  the  magistrate  spoke.     The  others  saluted  and 

thanked  him, 
And  from  his  purse  a  gold-piece  the  pastor  drew  forth; — 

for  the  silver 

He  had  some  hours  before  already  in  charity  given, 
When  he  in  mournful  groups  had  seen  the  poor  fugitives 

passing; — 
And  to  the  magistrate  handed  it,  saying:  "Apportion  the 

money 
'Mongst  thy  destitute  people,  and  God  vouchsafe  it  an 

increase." 
But  the  stranger  declined  it,  and,  answering,  said:    "  We 

have  rescued 

Many  a  dollar  among  us,  with  clothing  and  other  pos- 
sessions, 
And  shall  return,  as  I  hope,  ere  yet  our  stock  is  exhausted. ' ' 

Then  the  pastor  replied,  and  pressed  the  money  upon 
him: 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  115 

' '  None  should  be  backward  in  giving  in  days  like  the  pres- 
ent, and  no  one 

Ought  to  refuse  to  accept  those  gifts  which  in  kindness  are 
offered. 

None  can  tell  how  long  he  may  hold  what  in  peace  he 
possesses, 

None  how  much  longer  yet  he  shall  roam  through  the  land 
of  the  stranger, 

And  of  his  farm  be  deprived,  and  deprived  of  the  garden 
that  feeds  him.'* 

"Ay,  to  be  sure!"  in  his  bustling  way  interrupted  the 

doctor : 
"  If  I  had  only  some  money  about  me,  ye  surely  should 

have  it, 

Little  and  big ;  for  certainly  many  among  you  must  need  it. 
Yet  I'll  not  go  without  giving  thee  something  to  show  what 

my  will  is, 
Even   though   sadly  behind  my  good-will  must  lag  the 

performance. ' ' 
Thus,  as  he  spoke,  by  its  straps  his  embroidered  pocket  of 

leather, 
Where  his  tobacco  was  kept,  he  drew  forth, —  enough  was 

now  in  it 

Several  pipes  to  fill, —  and  daintily  opened,  and  portioned. 
"  Small  is  the  gift,"  he  added.    The  justice,  however,  made 

answer : 

"  Good  tobacco  can  ne'er  to  the  traveller  fail  to  be  wel- 
come. ' ' 
Then  did  the  village  doctor  begin  to  praise  his  canaster. 

But  the  clergyman  drew  him  away,  and  they  quitted  the 

justice. 
"Let  us  make  haste,"  said  the  thoughtful  man:  "the 

youth's  waiting  in  torture; 
Come!  let  him  hear,  as   soon  as  he  may,  the  jubilant 

tidings." 


116  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

So  they  hastened  their  steps,  and  came  to  where  under 

the  lindens 
Hermann  against  the  carriage  was  leaning.     The  horses 

were  stamping 
Wildly  the  turf;  he  held  them  in  check,  and,  buried  in 

musing, 
Stood,  into  vacancy  gazing  before  him;  nor  saw  the  two 

envoys, 
Till,  as  they  came,  they  called  out  and  made  to  him  signals 

of  triumph. 
E'en  as  far  off  as  they  then  were,  the  doctor  began  to 

address  him ; 
But  they  were  presently  nearer  come  and  then  the  good 

pastor 
Grasped  his  hand  and  exclaimed,  interrupting  the  word  of 

his  comrade : 
' '  Hail  to  thee,  0  young  man !  thy  true  eye  and  heart  have 

well  chosen; 
Joy  be  to  thee  and  the  wife  of  thy  youth ;  for  of  thee  she  is 

worthy. 
Come  then  and  turn  us  the  wagon,  and  drive  straightway 

to  the  village, 
There  the  good  maid  to  woo,  and  soon  bring  her  home  to 

thy  dwelling." 

Still,  however,  the  young  man  stood,  without  sign  of 

rejoicing, 
Hearing  his  messenger's  words,  though  heavenly  they  were 

and  consoling. 
Deeply  he  sighed  as  he  said:    "  With  hurrying  wheels  we 

came  hither, 
And  shall  be  forced,  perchance,  to  go  mortified  homeward 

and  slowly. 
For  disquiet  has  fallen  upon  me  since  here  I've  been 

waiting, 
Doubt  and  suspicion  and  all  that  can  torture  the  heart  of 

a  lover. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  117 

Think  ye  we  have  but  to  come,  and  that  then  the  maiden 

will  follow 
Merely  because  we  are  rich,  while  she  is  poor  and  an 

exile  ? 
Poverty,   too,   makes   proud,   when  it  comes  unmerited! 

Active 
Seems  she  to  be,  and  contented,  and  so  of  the  world  is  she 

mistress. 
Think  ye  a  maiden  like  her,  with  the  manners  and  beauty 

that  she  has, 
Can  into  woman  have  grown,  and  no  worthy  man's  love 

have  attracted? 
Think  ye  that  love  until  now  can  have  been  shut  out  from 

her  bosom? 

Drive  not  thither  too  rashly :  we  might  to  our  mortification 
Have  to  turn  softly  homewards  our  horses'  heads.    For  my 

fear  is 
That  to  some  youth  already  this  heart  has  been  given; 

already 
This  brave  hand  has  been  clasped,  has  pledged  faith  to 

some  fortunate  lover. 

Then  with  my  offer,  alas !  I  should  stand  in  confusion  be- 
fore her." 

Straightway  the  pastor  had  opened  his  lips  to  speak 

consolation, 
When  his  companion  broke  in,  and  said  in  his  voluble 

fashion : 

"  Years  ago,  forsooth,  unknown  had  been  such  a  dilemma. 
All  such  affairs  were  then  conducted  in  regular  fashion. 
Soon  as  a  bride  for  their  son  had  been  by  the  parents 

selected, 
First  some  family  friend  they  into  their  councils  would 

summon, 
Whom    they    afterward    sent   as    a   suitor   to   visit   the 

parents 
Of  the  elected  bride.    Arrayed  in  his  finest  apparel, 


118  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Soon  after  dinner  on  Sunday  he  sought  the  respectable 

burgher, 
When  some  friendly  words  were  exchanged  upon  general 

subjects, 
He  knowing  how  to  direct  the  discourse  as  suited  his 

purpose. 
After    much    circumlocution    he    finally    mentioned    the 

daughter, 
Praising  her  highly,  and  praising  the  man  and  the  house 

that  had  sent  him. 

Persons  of  tact  perceived  his  intent,  and  the  politic  envoy 
Readily  saw  how  their  minds  were  disposed,  and  explained 

himself  further. 
Then  were  the  offer  declined,  e'en  the  *  no  '  brought  not 

mortification ; 

But  did  it  meet  with  success,  the  suitor  was  ever  thereafter 
Made  the  chief  guest  in  the  house  on  every  festive  occasion. 
For,  through  the  rest  of  their  lives,  the  couple  ne'er  failed 

to  remember 
That  'twas  by  his  experienced  hand  the  first  knot  had  been 

gathered. 
All  that,  however,  is  changed,  and,  with  many  another  good 

custom, 
Quite  fallen  out  of  the  fashion;  for  every  man  woos  for 

himself  now. 
Therefore  let  every  man  hear  to  his  face  pronounced  the 

refusal, 
If  a  refusal  there  be,  and  stand  shamed  in  the  sight  of  the 

maiden!" 

' '  Let  that  be  as  it  may ! ' '  made  answer  the  youth,  who 

had  scarcely 
Unto  the  words  paid  heed;  but  in  silence  had  made  his 

decision. 
' i  I  will  go  thither  myself,  will  myself  hear  my  destiny 

spoken 
Out  of  the  lips  of  a  maiden  in  whom  I  a  confidence  cherish 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  119 

Greater  than  heart  of  man  has  e'er  before  cherished  in 

woman. 
Say  what  she  will,  'twill  be  good  and  wise;  of  that  I  am 

certain. 

Should  I  behold  her  never  again,  yet  this  once  will  I  see  her; 
Yet  this   once   the  clear  gaze   of  those  dark  eyes  will 

encounter. 
If  I  must  press  her  ne  'er  to  my  heart,  yet  that  neck  and  that 

bosom 

Will  I  behold  once  more,  that  my  arm  so  longs  to  encircle ; 
Once  more  that  mouth  will  see,  whose  kiss  and  whose  '  yes  ' 

would  for  ever 
Render  me  happy,  from  which  a  *  no  '  will  for  ever  destroy 

me. 
But  ye  must  leave  me  alone.    Do  not  wait  for  me  here; 

but  return  ye 
Back  to  my  father  and  mother  again,  and  give  them  the 

knowledge 
That  their  son  has  not  been  deceived,  that  the  maiden  is 

worthy. 
So  then  leave  me  alone !    I  shall  follow  the  footpath  that 

crosses 
Over  the  hill  by  the  pear-tree,  and  thence  descends  through 

our  vineyard, 
Taking  a  shorter  way  home.    And  oh,  may  I  bring  to  our 

dwelling, 
Joyful  and  quick  my  beloved!  but  perhaps  I  alone  may 

come  creeping 
Over  that  path  to  the  house,  and  ne'er  again  tread  it  with 

gladness." 

Thus  he  spoke,  and  gave  up  the  reins  to  the  hand  of  the 

pastor, 
Who  understandingly  grasped  them,  the  foaming  horses 

controlling, 

Speedily  mounted  the  carriage,  and  sat  in  the  seat  of 
driver. 


120  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

But  thou  didst  hesitate,  provident  neighbor,  and  say  in 

remonstrance : 
"Heart  and  soul  and  spirit,  my  friend,  I  willingly  trust 

thee; 
But  as  for  life  and  limb,  they  are  not  in  the  safest  of 

keeping, 
When  the  temporal  reins  are  usurped  by  the  hand  of  the 

clergy." 

But  thou  didst  laugh  at  his  words,  intelligent  pastor,  and 

answer : 
"  Sit  thee  down,  and  contentedly  trust  me  both  body  and 

spirit ; 

For,  in  holding  the  reins,  my  hand  grew  long  ago  skilful, 
Long  has  my  eye  been  trained  in  making  the  nicest  of 

turnings ; 
For  we  were  practised  well  in  driving  the  carriage  in 

Strasburg, 
When  I  the  youthful  baron  accompanied  thither;  then 

daily 
Boiled  the  carriage,  guided  by  me,  through  the  echoing 

gateway, 
Out  over  dusty  roads  till  we  reached  the  meadows  and 

lindens, 
Steering  through  groups  of  the  town 's-f oik  beguiling  the 

day  there  with  walking. ' ' 

Thereupon,  half-reassured,  the  neighbor  ascended  the 

wagon, 

Sat  like  one  who  for  a  prudent  leap  is  holding  him  ready, 
And  the  stallions  sped  rapidly  homeward,  desiring  their 

stable. 
Clouds  of  dust  whirled  up  from  under  their  powerful 

hoof-beats. 
Long  the  youth  stood  there  yet,  and  saw  the  dust  in  its 

rising, 
Saw  the  dust  as  it  settled  again :  he  stood  there  unheeding. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  121 

ERATO 

DOROTHEA 

Like  as  the  traveller,  who,  when  the  sun  is  approaching  its 

setting, 

Fixes  his  eyes  on  it  once  again  ere  quickly  it  vanish, 
Then  on  the  sides  of  the  rocks,  and  on  all  the  darkening 

bushes, 

Sees  its  hovering  image ;  whatever  direction  he  look  in 
That  hastes  before,  and  flickers  and  gleams  in  radiant 

colors, — 
So  before  Hermann's  eyes  moved  the  beautiful  shape  of  the 

maiden 
Softly,  and  seeming  to  follow  the  path  that  led  into  the 

corn-field. 

But  he  aroused  from  his  wildering  dream  and  turned  him- 
self slowly 
Toward  where  the  village  lay  and  was  wildered  again ;  for 

again  came 

Moving  to  meet  him  the  lofty  form  of  the  glorious  maiden. 
Fixedly  gazed  he  upon  her ;  herself  it  was  and  no  phantom. 
Bearing  in  either  hand  a  larger  jar  and  a  smaller, 
Each  by  the  handle,  with  busy  step  she  came  on  to  the 

fountain. 
Joyfully  then  he  hastened  to  meet  her ;  the  sight  of  her  gave 

him 
Courage  and  strength;  and  thus  the  astonished  girl  he 

accosted : 
"  Do  I  then  find  thee,  brave-hearted  maiden,  so  soon  again 

busy, 
Rendering  aid  unto  others,  and  happy  in  bringing  them 

comfort  ? 
Say  why  thou  comest  alone  to  this  well  which  lies  at  such  a 

distance, 
When  all  the  rest  are  content  with  the  water  they  find  in 

the  village? 


122  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

This   has   peculiar  virtues,    'tis   true;   and   the   taste  is 

delicious. 
Thou  to  that  mother  wouldst  bring  it,  I  trow,  whom  thy 

faithfulness  rescued." 

Straightway  with  cordial  greeting  the  kindly  maiden 

made  answer: 
' '  Here  has  my  walk  to  the  spring  already  been  amply 

rewarded, 
Since  I  have  found  the  good  friend  who  bestowed  so 

abundantly  on  us; 
For  a  pleasure  not  less  than  the  gifts  is  the  sight  of  the 

giver. 
Come,  I  pray  thee,  and  see  for  thyself  who  has  tasted  thy 

bounty ; 

Come,  and  the  quiet  thanks  receive  of  all  it  has  solaced. 
But  that  thou  straightway  the  reason  may'st  know  for 

which  I  am  hither 
Come  to  draw,  where  pure  and  unfailing  the  water  is 

flowing, 
This  I  must  tell  thee, —  that  all  the  water  we  have  in  the 

village 
Has  by  improvident  people  been  troubled  with  horses  and 

oxen 

Wading  direct  through  the  source  which  brings  the  in- 
habitants water. 
And  furthermore  they  have  also  made  foul  with  their 

washings  and  rinsings 
All  the  troughs  of  the  village,  and  all  the  fountains  have 

sullied ; 
For  but  one  thought  is  in  all,  and  that  how  to  satisfy 

quickest 
Self  and  the  need  of  the  moment,  regardless  of  what  may 

come  after.** 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  the  broad  stone  steps  meanwhile  had 
descended 


LUDWIG   RlCHTKl 

HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  MEET  AT  THE  FOUNTAIN 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  123 

With  her  companion  beside  her,  and  on  the  low  wall  of  the 

fountain 
Both  sat  them  down.    She  bent  herself  over  to  draw,  and  he 

also 
Took  in  his  hand  the  jar  that  remained,  and  bent  himself 

over; 
And  in  the  blue  of  the  heavens,  they,  seeing  their  image 

reflected, 
Friendly  greetings  and  nods  exchanged  in  the  quivering 

mirror. 

"  Give  me  to  drink,"  the  youth  thereupon  in  his  gladness 

petitioned, 

And  she  handed  the  pitcher.  Familiarly  sat  they  and  rested, 
Both  leaning  over  their  jars,  till  she  presently  asked  her 

companion : 
' '  Tell  me,  why  I  find  thee  here,  and  without  thy  horses  and 

wagon, 
Far  from  the  place  where  I  met  thee  at  first?    How  earnest 

thou  hither?" 

Thoughtful  he  bent  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  then  quietly 
raised  them 

Up  to  her  face,  and,  meeting  with  frankness  the  gaze  of 
the  maiden, 

Felt  himself  solaced  and  stilled.    But  then  impossible  was  it, 

That  he  of  love  should  speak ;  her  eye  told  not  of  affection, 

Only  of  clear  understanding,  requiring  intelligent  answer. 

And  he  composed  himself  quickly,  and  cordially  said  to 
the  maiden: 

' l  Hearken  to  me,  my  child,  and  let  me  reply  to  thy  question. 

'Twas  for  thy  sake  that  hither  I  came;  why  seek  to  con- 
ceal it? 

Know  I  live  happy  at  home  with  both  my  affectionate 
parents, 

Faithfully  giving  my  aid  their  house  and  estates  in 
directing, 


124  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Being  an  only  son,  and  because  our  affairs  are  extensive. 
Mine  is  the  charge  of  the  farm;  my  father  bears  rule  in 

the  household; 

While  the  presiding  spirit  of  all  is  the  diligent  mother. 
But  thine  experience  doubtless  has  taught  thee  how  griev- 
ously servants, 
Now  through  deceit,  and  now  through  their  carelessness, 

harass  the  mistress, 
Forcing  her  ever  to  change  and  replace  one  fault  with 

another. 
Long  for  that  reason  my  mother  has  wished  for  a  maid  in 

the  household, 
Who  not  with  hand  alone,  but  with  heart,  too,  will  lend 

her  assistance, 
Taking  the  daughter's  place,  whom  alas!  she  was  early 

deprived  of. 
Now  when  today  by  the  wagon  I  saw  thee,  so  ready  and 

cheerful, 
Witnessed  the  strength  of  thine  arms,  and  thy  limbs  of  such 

healthful  proportion, 
When  thy  intelligent  speech  I  heard,  I  was  smitten  with 

wonder. 
Hastening  homeward,  I  there  to  my  parents  and  neighbors 

the  stranger 
Praised  as  she  well  deserved.    But  I  now  am  come  hither 

to  tell  thee 
What  is  their  wish  as  mine. —  Forgive  me  my  stammering 

language." 

1 1  Hesitate  not, ' '  she,  answering,  said,  ' '  to  tell  me  what 
follows. 

Thou  dost  not  give  me  offence ;  I  have  listened  with  grati- 
tude to  thee: 

Speak  it  out  honestly  therefore;  the  sound  of  it  will  not 
alarm  me. 

Thou  wouldst  engage  me  as  servant  to  wait  on  thy  father 
and  mother, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  125 

And  to  look  after  the  well-ordered  house  of  which  ye  are  the 

owners ; 

And  thou  thinkest  in  me  to  find  them  a  capable  servant, 
One   who   is    skilled   in   her   work,   and   not   of   a   rude 

disposition. 
Short  thy  proposal  has  been,  and  short  shall  be  also  my 

answer. 

Yes,  I  will  go  with  thee  home,  and  the  call  of  fate  I  will  follow. 
Here  my  duty  is  done:  I  have  brought  the  newly  made 

mother 
Back  to  her  kindred  again,  who  are  all  in  her  safety 

rejoicing. 
Most  of  our  people  already  are  gathered;  the  others  will 

follow. 

All  think  a  few  days  more  will  certainly  see  them  returning 
Unto  their  homes;  for  such  is  the  exile's  constant  delusion. 
But  by  no  easy  hope  do  I  suffer  myself  to  be  cheated 
During  these  sorrowful  days  which  promise  yet  more  days 

of  sorrow. 
All  the  bands  of  the  world  have  been  loosed,  and  what  shall 

unite  them, 

Saving  alone  the  need,  the  need  supreme,  that  is  on  us? 
If  in  a  good  man's  house  I  can  earn  my  living  by  service, 
Under  the  eye  of  an  excellent  mistress,  I  gladly  will  do  it ; 
Since  of  doubtful  repute,  must  be  always  a  wandering 

maiden. 
Yes,  I  will  go  with  thee,  soon  as  I  first  shall  have  carried 

the  pitchers 
Back  to  my  friends,  and  prayed  the  good  people  to  give  me 

their  blessing 
Come,  thou  must  see  them  thyself,  and  from  their  hands 

must  receive  me." 

Joyfully  hearkened  the  youth  to  the  willing  maiden's 

decision, 

Doubtful  whether  he  ought  not  at  once  to  make  honest 
confession. 


126  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Yet  it  appeared  to  him  best  to  leave  her  awhile  in  her 

error, 
Nor  for  her  love  to  sue,  before  leading  her  home  to  his 

dwelling. 
Ah!  and  the  golden  ring  he  perceived  on  the  hand  of  the 

maiden, 
Wherefore  he  let  her  speak  on,  and  gave  diligent  ear  to 

her  language. 

"  Come,"  she  presently  said,  "  Let  us  back  to  the  village ; 

for  maidens 
Always  are  sure  to  be  blamed  if  they  tarry  too  long  at 

the  fountain. 
Yet  how  delightful  it  is  to  chat  by  the  murmuring  water ! ' ' 

Then  from  their  seats  they  rose,  and  both  of  them  turned 

to  the  fountain 

One  more  look  behind,  and  a  tender  longing  possessed  them. 
Both  of  the  water-jars  then  in  silence  she  took  by  the 

handle, 
Carried  them  up  the  steps,  while  behind  her  followed  her 

lover. 
One  of  the  pitchers  he  begged  her  to  give  him  to  lighten 

the  burden. 
"Nay,  let  it  be!"  she  said:     "I  carry  them  better  so 

balanced. 
Nor  shall  the  master,  who  is  to  command,  be  doing  me 

service. 
Look  not  so  gravely  upon  me,  as  thinking  my  fortune  a 

hard  one. 

Early  a  woman  should  learn  to  serve,  for  that  is  her  calling ; 
Since  through  service  alone  she  finally  comes  to  the  head- 
ship, 
Comes  to  the  due  command  that  is  hers  of  right  in  the 

household. 
Early  the  sister  must  wait  on  her  brother,  and  wait  on  her 

parents ; 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  127 

Life  must  be  always  with  her  a  perpetual  coming  and 

going, 

Or  be  a  fetching  and  carrying,  making  and  doing  for  others. 
Happy  for  her  be  she  wonted  to  think  no  way  is  too 

grievous, 
And  if  the  hours  of  the  night  be  to  her  as  the  hours  of  the 

daytime ; 

If  she  find  never  a  needle  too  fine,  nor  a  labor  too  trifling; 
Wholly  forgetful  of  self,  and  caring  to  live  but  in  others ! 
For  she  will  surely,  as  mother,  have  need  of  every  virtue, 
When,  in  the  time  of  her  illness,  the  cries  of  her  infant 

arouse  her 

Calling  for  food  from  her  weakness,  and  cares  are  to  suffer- 
ing added. 
Twenty  men  bound  into  one  were  not  able  to  bear  such 

a  burden; 
Nor  is  it  meant  that  they  should,  yet  should  they  with 

gratitude  view  it." 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  was  come,  meanwhile,  with  her 

silent  companion, 
Far  as  the  floor  of  the  barn,  at  the  furthermost  end  of  the 

garden, 
Where  was  the  sick  woman  lying,  whom,  glad,  she  had  left 

with  her  daughters, 
Those  late  rescued  maidens:  fair  pictures  of  innocence 

were  they. 
Both  of  them  entered  the  barn;  and,  e'en  as  they  did  so, 

the  justice, 
Leading  a  child  in  each  hand,  caine  in  from  the  other 

direction. 

These  had  been  lost,  hitherto,  from  the  sight  of  their  sor- 
rowing mother; 
But  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  the  old  man  now  had 

descried  them. 
Joyfully  sprang  they  forward  to  meet  their  dear  mother's 

embraces, 


128  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  to  salute  with  delight  their  brother,  their  unknown 

companion. 

Next  upon  Dorothea  they  sprang  with  affectionate  greeting, 
Asking  for  bread  and  fruit,  but  more  than  all  else  for  some 

water. 
So  then  she  handed  the  water  about;  and  not  only  the 

children 
Drank,  but  the  sick  woman,  too,  and  her  daughters,  and 

with  them  the  justice. 
All  were  refreshed,  and  highly  commended  the  glorious 

water ; 
Acid  it  was  to  the  taste,  and  reviving,  and  wholesome  to 

drink  of. 

Then  with  a  serious  face  the  maiden  replied  to  them, 

saying: 
"  Friends,  for  the  last  time  now  to  your  mouth  have  I  lifted 

my  pitcher ; 
And  for  the  last  time  by  me  have  your  lips  been  moistened 

with  water. 
But  henceforth  in  the  heat  of  the  day  when  the  draught 

shall  refresh  you, 

When  in  the  shade  ye  enjoy  your  rest  beside  a  clear  fountain, 
Think  of  me  then  sometimes  and  of  all  my  affectionate 

service, 
Prompted  more  by  my  love  than  the  duty  I  owed  you  as 

kindred. 
I  shall  acknowledge  as  long  as  I  live  the  kindness  ye've 

shown  me. 
Tis  with  regret  that  I  leave  you;  but  every  one  now  is  a 

burden, 
More  than  a  help  to  his  neighbor,  and  all  must  be  finally 

scattered 
Far  through  a  foreign  land,  if  return  to  our  homes  be 

denied  us. 
See,  here  stands  the  youth  to  whom  we  owe  thanks  for  the 

presents. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  129 

He  gave  the  cloak  for  the  baby,  and  all  these  welcome 

provisions. 
Now  he  is  come,  and  has  asked  me  if  I  will  make  one  in  his 

dwelling, 

That  I  may  serve  therein  his  wealthy  and  excellent  parents. 
And  I  refuse  not  the  offer;  for  maidens  must  always  be 

serving ; 
Burdensome  were  it  for  them  to  rest  and  be  served  in  the 

household. 
Therefore  I  follow  him  gladly.    A  youth  of  intelligence 

seems  he, 

And  so  will  also  the  parents  be,  as  becometh  the  wealthy. 
So  then  farewell,  dear  friend;  and  may'st  thou  rejoice  in 

thy  nursling, 

Living,  and  into  thy  face  already  so  healthfully  looking! 
When  thou  shalt  press  him  against  thy  breast  in  these  gay- 
colored  wrappings, 
Oh,  then  remember  the  kindly  youth  who  bestowed  them 

upon  us, 
And  who  me  also  henceforth,  thy  sister,  will  shelter  and 

nourish. 
Thou,  too,  excellent  man!"  she  said  as  she  turned  to  the 

justice ; 
* '  Take  my  thanks  that  in  many  a  need  I  have  found  thee 

a  father." 

Then  she  knelt  down  on  the  floor  by  the  side  of  the  newly 

made  mother, 

Kissing  the  weeping  woman,  and  taking  her  low-whispered 
blessing. 

Thou,  meanwhile,  worshipful  justice,  wast  speaking  to 

Hermann  and  saying: 
"  Justly  mayst  thou,  my  friend,  be  counted  among  the  good 

masters, 

Careful  to  manage  their  household  affairs  with  capable 
servants. 
VOL.  1  —  9 


130  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

For  I  have  often  observed  how  in  sheep,  as  in  horses  and 

oxen, 
Men   conclude   never   a   bargain  without  making  closest 

inspection, 
While  with  a  servant  who  all  things  preserves,  if  honest 

and  able, 
And  who  will  every  thing  lose  and  destroy,  if  he  set  to 

work  falsely, 
Him  will  a  chance  or  an  accident  make  us  admit  to  our 

dwelling, 
And  we  are  left,  when  too  late,  to  repent  an  o'er  hasty 

decision. 
Thou  understandest  the  matter  it  seems ;  because  thou  hast 

chosen, 
Thee  and  thy  parents  to  serve  in  the  house,  a  maid  who  is 

honest. 
Hold  her  with  care ;  for  as  long  as  thy  household  is  under 

her  keeping, 
Thou  shalt  not  want  for  a  sister,  nor  yet  for  a  daughter 

thy  parents." 

Many  were  come,  meanwhile,  near  relatives  all  of  the 

mother, 
Bringing  her  various  gifts,  and  more  suitable  quarters 

announcing. 
All  of  them,  hearing  the  maiden's  decision,  gave  Hermann 

their  blessing, 
Coupled  with  glances  of  meaning,  while  each  made  his 

special  reflections. 
Hastily  one   and   another  would   say  in  the  ear  of  his 

neighbor : 
"If  in  the  master  a  lover  she  find,  right  well  were  she 

cared  for." 
Hermann  took  her  at  last  by  the  hand,  and  said  as  he  did 

so: 
"Let  us  be  going;  the  day  is  declining,  and  distant  the 

city." 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  131 

Eager  and  voluble  then  the  women  embraced  Dorothea. 
Hermann  drew  her  away;  but  other  adieus  must  be  spoken: 
Lastly  the  children  with  cries  fell  upon  her  and  terrible 

weeping, 
Clung  to  her  garments,  and  would  not  their  dear  second 

mother  should  leave  them. 

But  in  a  tone  of  command  the  women  said,  one  and  another : 
"  Hush  now,  children,  she's  going  to  the  town,  and  will 

presently  bring  you 

Plenty  of  nice  sweet  cake  that  was  by  your  brother  be- 
spoken 
When  by  the  stork  just  now  he  was  brought  past  the  shop 

of  the  baker. 
Soon    you    will    see    her    come    back    with    sugar-plums 

spendidly  gilded. ' ' 
Then  did  the  little  ones  loose  their  hold,  and  Hermann, 

though  hardly, 
Tore  her  from  further  embraces  away,  and  far-waving 

kerchiefs. 


MELPOMENE 
HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA 

Toward  the  setting  sun  the  two  thus  went  on  their 
journey : 

Close  he  had  wrapped  himself  round  with  clouds  portend- 
ing a  tempest. 

Out  from  the  veil,  now  here  and  now  there,  with  fiery 
flashes, 

Gleaming  over  the  field  shot  forth  the  ominous  lightning. 

"  May  not  these  threatening  heavens,"  said  Hermann, 
"  be  presently  sending 

Hailstones  upon  us  and  violent  rains;  for  fair  is  the  har- 
vest." 

And  in  the  waving  luxuriant  grain  they  delighted  together: 

Almost  as  high  it  reached  as  the  lofty  shapes  that  moved 
through  it. 


132  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Thereupon  spoke  the  maiden,  and  said  to  her  guide  and 

companion : 

"  Friend,  unto  whom  I  soon  am  to  owe  so  kindly  a  fortune, 
Shelter  and  home,  while  many  an  exile's  exposed  to  the 

tempest, 
Tell  me  concerning  thy  parents,  I  pray  thee,  and  teach  me 

to  know  them, 
Them  whom  with  all  my  heart  I  desire  to  serve  in  the 

future. 

Who  understands  his  master,  more  easily  gives  satisfaction, 
Having  regard  to  the  things  which  to  him  seem  chief  in 

importance, 

And  on  the  doing  of  which  his  firm-set  mind  is  determined. 
Tell  me  therefore,  I  pray,  how  to  win  thy  father  and 

mother. ' ' 

And  to  her  question  made  answer  the  good  and  intelli- 
gent Hermann: 

"Ah,  what  wisdom  thou  showest,  thou  good,  thou  excellent 
maiden, 

Asking  thus  first  of  all  concerning  the  tastes  of  my  parents ! 

Know  that  in  vain  hitherto  I  have  labored  in  serving  my 
father, 

Taking  upon  me  as  were  it  my  own,  the  charge  of  the  house- 
hold; 

Early  and  late  at  work  in  the  fields,  and  o'erseeing  the 
vineyard. 

But  my  mother  I  fully  content,  who  can  value  my  service ; 

And  thou  wilt  also  appear  in  her  eyes  the  worthiest  of 
maidens, 

If  for  the  house  thou  carest,  as  were  it  thine  own  thou  wast 
keeping. 

Otherwise  is  it  with  father,  who  cares  for  the  outward 
appearance. 

Do  not  regard  me,  good  maiden,  as  one  who  is  cold  and 
unfeeling, 

That  unto  thee  a  stranger  I  straightway  discover  my  father. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  133 

Nay,  I  assure  thee  that  never  before  have  words  such  as 
these  are 

Freely  dropped  from  my  tongue,  which  is  not  accustomed 
to  prattle; 

But  from  out  of  my  bosom  thou  lurest  its  every  secret. 

Some  of  the  graces  of  life  my  good  father  covets  about  him, 

Outward  signs  of  affection  he  wishes,  as  well  as  of  honor; 

And  an  inferior  servant  might  possibly  give  satisfaction, 

Who  could  turn  these  to  account,  while  he  might  be  dis- 
pleased with  a  better." 

Thereupon  said  she  with  joy,  the  while  him  hastening 

footsteps 

Over  the  darkening  pathway  with  easy  motion  she  quick- 
ened: 

"  Truly  I  hope  to  them  both  I  shall  equally  give  satis- 
faction : 
For  in  thy  mother's  nature  I  find  such  an  one  as  mine 

own  is, 
And  to  the  outward  graces  I've  been  from  my  childhood 

accustomed. 
Greatly  was  courtesy  valued  among  our  neighbors  the 

Frenchmen, 
During  their  earlier  days;  it  was  common  to  noble  and 

burgher, 
As  to  the  peasant,  and  every  one  made  it  the  rule  of  his 

household. 
So,  on  the  side  of  us  Germans,  the  children  were  likewise 

accustomed 
Daily  to  bring  to  their  parents,  with  kissing  of  hands  and 

with  curtseys, 
Morning  good- wishes,  and  all  through  the  day  to  be  prettily 

mannered. 
Every  thing  thus  that  I  learned,  and  to  which  I've  been 

used  from  my  childhood, 
All  that  my  heart  shall  suggest,  shall  be  brought  into  play 

for  thy  father. 


134  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

But  who  shall  tell  me  of  thee,  and  how  thyself  shouldst  be 

treated, 
Thou   the   only   son   of   the   house,   and   henceforth  my 

master!  " 

Thus  she  said,  and  e'en  as  she  spoke  they  stood  under 

the  pear-tree. 
Down  from  the  heavens  the  moon  at  her  full  was  shedding 

her  splendor. 
Night  had  come  on,  and  wholly  obscured  was  the  last  gleam 

of  sunlight, 

So  that  contrasting  masses  lay  side  by  side  with  each  other, 
Clear  and  bright  as  the  day,  and  black  with  the  shadows 

of  midnight; 
Gratefully   fell   upon   Hermann's   ear   the   kindly   asked 

question 
Under  the   shade  of  the  glorious   tree,  the  spot  he  so 

treasured, 
Which  but  this  morning  had  witnessed  the  tears  he  had 

shed  for  the  exile. 
And  while  they  sat  themselves  down  to  rest  them  here  for 

a  little, 
Thus  spoke  the  amorous  youth,  as  he  grasped  the  hand  of 

the  maiden: 
"  Suffer  thy  heart  to  make  answer,  and  follow  it  freely  in 

all  things." 

Yet  naught  further  he  ventured  to  say  although  so  pro- 
pitious 
Seemed  the  hour;  he  feared  he  should  only  haste  on  a 

refusal. 

Ah,  and  he  felt  besides  the  ring  on  her  finger,  sad  token! 
Therefore  they  sat  there,  silent  and  still,  beside  one  another. 

First  was  the  maiden  to  speak:     "How  sweet  is  this 

glorious  moonlight!  " 

Said  she  at  length :     * '  It  is  as  the  light  of  the  day  in  its 
brightness. 


G    RlCHTER 


HERMANN   AND   DOROTHEA   UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE 


135 

There  in  the  city  I  plainly  can  see  the  houses  and  court- 
yards, 

And  in  the  gable  —  methinks  I  can  number  its  panes — is 
a  window." 

"  What  thou  seest,"  the  modest  youth  thereupon  made 

her  answer, — 
* '  What  thou  seest  is  our  dwelling,  to  which  I  am  leading 

thee  downward, 

And  that  window  yonder  belongs  to  my  room  in  the  attic, 
Which  will   be   thine   perhaps,  for  various  changes   are 

making. 
All  these  fields,  too,  are  ours ;  they  are  ripe  for  the  harvest 

tomorrow. 

Here  in  the  shade  we  will  rest,  and  partake  of  our  noon- 
tide refreshment. 
But  it  is  time  we  began  our  descent  through  the  vineyard 

and  garden; 
For  dost  thou  mark  how  yon  threatening  storm-cloud  comes 

nearer  and  nearer, 
Charged  with  lightning,  and  ready  our  fair  full  moon  to 

extinguish?  " 

So  they  arose  from  their  seats,  and  over  the  corn  fields 

descended, 
Through  the  luxuriant  grain,  enjoying  the  brightness  of 

evening, 
Until  they  came  to  the  vineyard,  and  so  entered  into  its 

shadow. 
Then  he  guided  her  down  o'er  the  numerous  blocks  that 

were  lying, 
Bough  and  unhewn  on  the  pathway,  and  served  as  the  steps 

of  the  alley. 
Slowly  the  maiden  descended,  and  leaning  her  hands  on 

his  shoulder, 
While  with  uncertain  beams,  the  moon  through  the  leaves 

overlooked  them, 


136  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Ere  she  was  veiled  by  the  cloud,  and  so  left  the  couple  in 

darkness. 
Carefully  Hermann's  strength  supported  the  maid  that 

hung  o'er  him; 
But,  not  knowing  the  path  and  the  rough-hewn  steps  that 

led  down  it, 
Missed  she  her  footing,  her  ankle  turned,  and  she  surely 

had  fallen, 
Had  not  the  dexterous  youth  his  arm  outstretched  in  an 

instant, 

And  his  beloved  upheld.     She  gently  sank  on  his  shoulder ; 
Breast  was  pressed  against  breast,  and  cheek  against  cheek. 

Thus  he  stood  there 
Fixed  as  a  marble  statue,  the  force  of  will  keeping  him 

steadfast, 
Drew  her  not  to  him  more  closely,  but  braced  himself  under 

her  pressure. 
Thus   he   the   glorious   burden   felt,   the   warmth   of  her 

bosom, 
And  the  perfume  of  her  breath,  that  over  his  lips  was 

exhaling ; 
Bore  with  the  heart  of  a  man  the  majestic  form  of  the 

woman. 

But  she  with  playfulness  said,  concealing  the  pain  that 
she  suffered: 

"  That  is  a  sign  of  misfortune,  so  timorous  persons  would 
tell  us, 

When  on  approaching  a  house  we  stumble  not  far  from  the 
threshold ; 

And  for  myself,  I  confess,  I  could  wish  for  a  happier 
omen. 

Let  us  here  linger  awhile  that  thy  parents  may  not  have  to 
blame  thee, 

Seeing  a  limping  maid,  and  thou  seem  an  incompetent  land- 
lord. " 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  137 

URANIA 
PROSPECT 

Muses,  0  ye  who  the  course  of  true  love  so  willingly 
favor, 

Ye  who  thus  far  on  his  way  the  excellent  youth  have  con- 
ducted, 

Even  before  the  betrothal  have  pressed  to  his  bosom  the 
maiden ; 

Further  your  aid  vouchsafe  this  charming  pair  in  uniting, 

Straightway  dispersing  the  clouds  which  over  their  hap- 
piness lower! 

Yet  first  of  all  declare  what  is  passing  meanwhile  at  the  Lion. 
Now  for  the  third  time  again  the  mother  impatient  had 
entered 

Where  were  assembled  the  men,  whom  anxious  but  now 
she  had  quitted; 

Spoke  of  the  gathering  storm,  and  the  moonlight's  rapid 
obscuring ; 

Then  of  her  son's  late  tarrying  abroad  and  the  dangers 
of  nightfall; 

Sharply  upbraided  her  friends  that  without  having  speech 
of  the  maiden, 

And  without  urging  his  suit,  they  had  parted  from  Her- 
mann so  early. 

"  Make  it  not  worse  than  it  is,"  the  father  replied  with 

displeasure. 

"  For,  as  thou  seest,  we  tarry  ourselves  and  are  waiting 
the  issue. ' ' 

Calmly,  however,  from  where  he  was  sitting  the  neighbor 

made  answer: 

11  Never  in  hours  of  disquiet  like  this  do  I  fail  to  be  grateful 
Unto  my  late,  blessed  father,  who  every  root  of  impatience 
Tore  from  my  heart  when  a  child,  and  left  no  fibre  re- 
maining ; 


138  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

So  that  I  learned  on  the  instant  to  wait  as  do  none  of  your 

sages." 
"  Tell  us,"  the  pastor  returned,  "  what  legerdemain  he 

made  use  of." 
11  That  will  I  gladly  relate,  for  all  may  draw  from  it  a 

lesson;  " 
So  made  the  neighbor  reply.     * '  When  a  boy  I  once  stood 

of  a  Sunday 
Full  of  impatience,  and  looking  with  eagerness  out  for  the 

carriage 
Which  was  to  carry  us  forth  to  the  spring  that  lies  under 

the  lindens. 
Still  the  coach  came  not.     I  ran,  like  a  weasel,  now  hither, 

now  thither, 
Up  stairs  and  down,  and  forward  and  back,  'twixt  the  door 

and  the  window; 
Even  my  fingers  itched  to  be  moving;  I  scratched  on  the 

tables, 
Went  about  pounding  and  stamping,  and  hardly  could  keep 

me  from  weeping. 
All  was  observed  by  the  calm-tempered  man;  but  at  last 

when  my  folly 

Came  to  be  carried  too  far,  by  the  arm  he  quietly  took  me, 
Led  me  away  to  the  window,  and  spoke  in  this  serious 

language : 
*  Seest  thou  yonder  the  carpenter's  shop  that  is  closed  for 

the  Sunday? 
He  will  re-open  tomorrow,  when  plane  and  saw  will  be 

started, 
And  will  keep  on  through  the  hours  of  labor  from  morning 

till  evening. 

But  consider  you  this, —  a  day  will  be  presently  coming 
When  that  man  shall  himself  be  astir  and  all  of  Ms  work- 
men, 

Making  a  coffin  for  thee  to  be  quickly  and  skilfully  finished. 
Then  that  house  of  boards  they  will  busily  bring  over 

hither, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  139 

Which  must  at  last  receive  alike  the  impatient  and  patient, 

And  which  is  destined  soon  with  close-pressing  roof  to  be 
covered. ' 

Straightway  I  saw  the  whole  thing  in  my  mind  as  if  it  were 
doing; 

Saw  the  boards  fitting  together,  and  saw  the  black  color 
preparing, 

Sat  me  down  patiently  then,  and  in  quiet  awaited  the  car- 
riage. 

Now  when  others  I  see,  in  seasons  of  anxious  expectance, 

Running  distracted  about,  I  cannot  but  think  of  the  coffin." 

Smiling,  the  pastor  replied:  "  The  affecting  picture  of 
death  stands 

Not  as  a  dread  to  the  wise,  and  not  as  an  end  to  the  pious. 

Those  it  presses  again  into  life,  and  teaches  to  use  it; 

These  by  affliction  it  strengthens  in  hope  to  future  salvation. 

Death  becomes  life  unto  both.  Thy  father  was  greatly 
mistaken 

When  to  a  sensitive  boy  he  death  in  death  thus  depicted. 

Let  us  the  value  of  nobly  ripe  age,  point  out  to  the  young 
man, 

And  to  the  aged  the  youth,  that  in  the  eternal  progression 

Both  may  rejoice,  and  life  may  in  life  thus  find  its  com- 
pletion. ' ' 

But  the  door  was  now  opened,  and  showed  the  majestical 
couple. 

Filled  with  amaze  were  the  friends,  and  amazed  the  affec- 
tionate parents, 

Seeing  the  form  of  the  maid  so  well  matched  with  that  of 
her  lover. 

Yea,  the  door  seemed  too  low  to  allow  the  tall  figures  to 
enter, 

As  they  together  now  appeared  coming  over  the  threshold. 

Hermann,  with  hurried  words,  presented  her  thus  to  his 
parents : 


140  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

"  Here  is  a  maiden,"  he  said;  "  such  a  one  as  ye  wish  in 
the  household. 

Kindly  receive  her,  dear  father:  she  merits  it  well;  and 
thou,  mother, 

Question  her  straightway  on  all  that  belongs  to  a  house- 
keeper's duty, 

That  ye  may  see  how  well  she  deserves  to  ye  both  to  be 
nearer. ' ' 

Quickly  he  then  drew  aside  the  excellent  clergyman, 

saying: 

'  *  Help  me,  0  worthy  sir,  and  speedily  out  of  this  trouble ; 
Loosen,  I  pray  thee,  this  knot,  at  whose  untying  I  tremble. 
Know  that  'tis  not  as  a  lover  that  I  have  brought  hither 

the  maiden; 
But  she  believes  that  as  servant  she  comes  to  the  house, 

and  I  tremble 
Lest  in  displeasure  she  fly  as  soon  as  there's  mention  of 

marriage. 

But  be  it  straightway  decided;  for  she  no  longer  in  error 
Thus  shall  be  left,  and  I  this  suspense  no  longer  can  suffer. 
Hasten  and  show  us  in  this  a  proof  of  the  wisdom  we  honor." 

Toward   the    company    then    the    clergyman   instantly 

turned  him; 

But  already,  alas !  had  the  soul  of  the  maiden  been  troubled, 
Hearing  the  father's  speech;  for  he,  in  his  sociable  fashion, 
Had  in  these  playful  words,  with  the  kindest  intention 

addressed  her: 
"Ay,  this  is  well,  my  child!  with  delight  I  perceive  that 

my  Hermann 
Has  the  good  taste  of  his  father,  who  often  showed  his  in 

his  young  days, 
Leading  out  always  the  fairest  to  dance,  and  bringing  the 

fairest 
Finally  home  as  his  wife;   our  dear  little  mother  here 

that  was. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  141 

For  by  the  bride  that  a  man  shall  elect  we  can  judge  what 

himself  is, 
Tell  what  the  spirit  is  in  him,  and  whether  he  feel  his  own 

value. 
Nor  didst  thou  need  for  thyself,  I'll  engage,  much  time  for 

decision ; 
For,  in  good  sooth,  methinks,  he's  no  difficult  person  to 

follow." 

Hermann  had  heard  but  in  part ;  his  limbs  were  inwardly 

trembling, 
And  of  a  sudden  a  stillness  had  fallen  on  all  of  the  circle. 

But  by  these  words  of  derision,  for  such  she  could  not 
but  deem  them, 

Wounded,  and  stung  to  the  depths  of  her  soul,  the  excellent 
maiden, 

Stood,  while  the  fugitive  blood  o'er  her  cheeks  and  e'en  to 
her  bosom 

Poured  its  flush.  But  she  governed  herself,  and  her  cour- 
age collecting, 

Answered  the  old  man  thus,  her  pain  not  wholly  concealing : 

"  Truly  for  such  a  reception  thy  son  had  in  no  wise  pre- 
pared me, 

When  he  the  ways  of  his  father  described,  the  excellent 
burgher. 

Thou  art  a  man  of  culture,  I  know,  before  whom  I  am 
standing ; 

Dealest  with  every  one  wisely,  according  as  suits  his 
position ; 

But  thou  hast  scanty  compassion,  it  seems,  on  one  such 
as  I  am, 

Who,  a  poor  girl,  am  now  crossing  thy  threshold  with  pur- 
pose to  serve  thee; 

Else,  with  such  bitter  derision,  thou  wouldst  not  have  made 
me  remember  [thy  son  is. 

How  far  removed  my  fortune  from  that  of  thyself  and 


142  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

True,  I  come  poor  to  thy  house,  and  bring  with  me  naught 

hut  my  bundle 
Here  where  is  every  abundance  to  gladden  the  prosperous 

inmates. 

Yet  I  know  well  myself;  I  feel  the  relations  between  us. 
Say,  is  it  noble,  with  so  much  of  mockery  straightway  to 

greet  me, 
That  I  am  sent  from  the  house  while  my  foot  is  scarce  yet 

on  the  threshold?  " 

Anxiously  Hermann  turned  and  signed  to  his  ally  the 

pastor 
That  he  should  rush  to  the  rescue  and  straightway  dispel 

the  delusion. 
Then  stepped  the  wise  man  hastily  forward  and  looked  on 

the  maiden's 

Tearful  eyes,  her  silent  pain  and  repressed  indignation, 
And  in  his  heart  was  impelled  not  at  once  to  clear  up  the 

confusion, 

Rather  to  put  to  the  test  the  girl's  disquieted  spirit. 
Therefore  he  unto  her  said  in  language  intended  to  try  her : 
' '  Surely,  thou  foreign-born  maiden,  thou  didst  not  maturely 

consider, 
When  thou  too  rashly  decidedst  to  enter  the  service  of 

strangers, 
All  that  is  meant  by  the  placing  thyself  'neath  the  rule  of 

a  master; 

For  by  our  hand  to  a  bargain  the  fate  of  the  year  is  deter- 
mined, 

And  but  a  single  *  yea  '  compels  to  much  patient  endurance. 
Not  the  worst  part  of  the  service  the  wearisome  steps  to 

be  taken, 

Neither  the  bitter  sweat  of  a  labor  that  presses  unceasing; 
Since  the  industrious  freeman  must  toil  as  well  as  the 

servant. 
But  'tis  to  bear  with  the  master 's  caprice  when  he  censures 

unjustly, 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  143 

Or  when,  at  variance  with  self,  he  orders  now  this,  now 
the  other; 

Bear  with  the  petulance,  too,  of  the  mistress,  easily 
angered, 

And  with  the  rude,  overbearing  ways  of  unmannerly 
children. 

All  this  is  hard  to  endure,  and  yet  to  go  on  with  thy  duties 

Quickly,  without  delay,  nor  thyself  grow  sullen  and  stub- 
born. 

Yet  thou  appearest  ill  fitted  for  this,  since  already  so  deeply 

Stung  by  the  father's  jests:  whereas  there  is  nothing  more 
common 

Than  for  a  girl  to  be  teased  on  account  of  a  youth  she  may 
fancy. " 

Thus  he  spoke.     The  maiden  had  felt  the  full  force  of 

his  language, 

And  she  restrained  her  no  more;  but  with  passionate  out- 
burst her  feelings 
Made  themselves  way;  a  sob  broke  forth  from  her  now 

heaving  bosom, 
And,  while  the  scalding  tears  poured  down,  she  straighway 

made  answer: 

"Ah,  that  rational  man  who  thinks  to  advise  us  in  sorrow, 
Knows  not  how  little  of  power  his  cold  words  have  in 

relieving 
Ever  a  heart  from  that  woe  which  a  sovereign  fate  has 

inflicted. 
Ye  are  prosperous  and  glad;  how  then  should  a  pleasantry 

wound  youf 
Yet  but  the  lightest  touch  is  a  source  of  pain  to  the  sick 

man. 

Nay,  concealment  itself,  if  successful,  had  profited  nothing. 
Better  show  now  what  had  later  increased  to  a  bitterer 

anguish, 
And  to  an  inward  consuming  despair  might  perhaps  have 

reduced  me. 


144  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Let  me  go  back !  for  here  in  this  house  I  can  tarry  no  longer. 

I  will  away,  and  wander  in  search  of  my  hapless  com- 
panions, 

Whom  I  forsook  in  their  need;  for  myself  alone  choosing 
the  better. 

This  is  my  firm  resolve,  and  I  therefore  may  make  a  con- 
fession 

Which  might  for  years  perhaps  have  else  lain  hid  in  my 
bosom. 

Deeply  indeed  was  I  hurt  by  the  father's  words  of  derision; 

Not  that  I'm  sensitive,  proud  beyond  what  is  fitting  a 
servant ; 

But  that  my  heart  in  truth  had  felt  itself  stirred  with 
affection 

Toward  the  youth  who  today  had  appeared  to  my  eyes  as 
a  savior. 

When  he  first  left  me  there  on  the  road,  he  still  remained 
present, 

Haunting  my  every  thought ;  I  fancied  the  fortunate  maiden 

Whom  as  a  bride,  perhaps,  his  heart  had  already  elected. 

When  at  the  fountain  I  met  him  again,  the  sight  of  him 
wakened 

Pleasure  as  great  as  if  there  had  met  me  an  angel  from 
heaven ; 

And  with  what  gladness  I  followed,  when  asked  to  come  as 
his  servant. 

True,  that  I  flattered  myself  in  my  heart, —  I  will  not 
deny  it, — 

While  we  were  hitherward  coming,  I  might  peradventure 
deserve  him, 

Should  I  become  at  last  the  important  stay  of  the  house- 
hold. 

Now  I,  alas!  for  the  first  time  see  what  risk  I  was 
running, 

When  I  would  make  my  home  so  near  to  the  secretly  loved 
one; 

Now  for  the  first  time  feel  how  far  removed  a  poor  maiden 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  145 

Is  from  an  opulent  youth,  no  matter  how  great  her  de- 
serving. 

All  this  I  now  confess,  that  my  heart  ye  may  not  misin- 
terpret, 

In  that  'twas  hurt  by  a  chance  to  which  I  owe  my  awaking. 
Hiding  my  secret  desires,  this  dread  had  been  ever  before  me, 
That  at  some  early  day  he  would  bring  him  a  bride  -to  his 

dwelling ; 

And  ah,  how  could  I  then  my  inward  anguish  have  suffered ! 
Happily  I  have  been  warned,  and  happily  now  has  my 

bosom 
Been  of  its  secret  relieved,  while  yet  there  is  cure  for 

the  evil. 
But  no   more;   I  have   spoken;   and  now  shall  nothing 

detain  me 
Longer  here  in  a  house  where  I  stay  but  in  shame  and 

confusion, 
Freely  confessing  my  love  and  that  foolish  hope  that  I 

cherished. 
Not  the  night  which  abroad  is  covered  with  lowering  storm 

clouds ; 
Not  the  roll  of  the  thunder  —  I  hear  its  peal — shall  deter 

me; 

Not  the  pelt  of  the  rain  which  without  is  beating  in  fury; 
Neither  the  blustering  tempest ;  for  all  these  things  have  I 

suffered 
During  our  sorrowful  flight,  and  while  the  near  foe  was 

pursuing. 

Now  I  again  go  forth,  as  I  have  so  long  been  accustomed, 
Carried  away  by  the  whirl  of  the  times,  and  from  every 

thing  parted. 
Fare  ye  well!     I  tarry  no  longer;  all  now  is  over." 

Thus  she  spoke  and  back  to  the  door  she  hastily  turned 

her, 

Still  bearing  under  her  arm,  as  she  with  her  had  brought 
it,  her  bundle. 
VOL.  I  — 10 


146  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

But  with  both  of  her  arms  the  mother  seized  hold  of  the 

maiden, 
Clasping  her  round  the  waist,  and  exclaiming,  amazed  and 

bewildered : 
"  Tell  me,  what  means  all  this?  and  these  idle  tears,  say, 

what  mean  they! 
I  will  not  let  thee  depart:  thou  art  the  betrothed  of  my 

Hermann. ' ' 

But  still  the  father  stood,  observing  the  scene  with  dis- 
pleasure, 

Looked  on  the  weeping  girl,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  vexation : 

"  This  then  must  be  the  return  that  I  get  for  all  my 
indulgence, 

That  at  the  close  of  the  day  this  most  irksome  of  all  things 
should  happen! 

For  there  is  naught  I  can  tolerate  less  than  womanish 
weeping, 

Violent  outcries,  which  only  involve  in  disorder  and  passion, 

What  with  a  little  of  sense  had  been  more  smoothly 
adjusted. 

Settle  the  thing  for  yourselves:  I'm  going  to  bed;  I've  no 
patience 

Longer  to  be  a  spectator  of  these  your  marvelous  doings." 

Quiekly  he  turned  as  he  spoke,  and  hastened  to  go  to  the 
chamber 

Where  he  was  wonted  to  rest,  and  his  marriage  bed  was 
kept  standing, 

But  he  was  held  by  his  son,  who  said  in  a  tone  of  entreaty : 

* '  Father,  hasten  not  from  us,  and  be  thou  not  wroth  with 
the  maiden. 

I,  only  I,  am  to  blame  as  the  cause  of  all  this  confusion, 

Which  by  his  dissimulation  our  friend  unexpectedly  height- 
ened. 

Speak,  0  worthy  sir ;  for  to  thee  my  cause  I  intrusted. 

Heap  not  up  sorrow  and  anger,  but  rather  let  all  this  be 
ended ; 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  147 

For  I  could  hold  thee  never  again  in  such  high  estimation, 
If  thou  shouldst  show  but  delight  in  pain,  not  superior 
wisdom." 

Thereupon  answered  and  said  the  excellent  clergyman, 
smiling : 

' '  Tell  me,  what  other  device  could  have  drawn  this  charm- 
ing confession 

Out  of  the  good  maiden's  lips,  and  thus  have  revealed  her 
affection  ? 

Has  not  thy  trouble  been  straightway  transformed  into 
gladness  and  rapture? 

Therefore  speak  up  for  thyself;  what  need  of  the  tongue 
of  another?  ' 

Thereupon  Hermann  came  forward,  and  spoke  in  these 

words  of  affection: 
"  Do  not  repent  of  thy  tears,  nor  repent  of  these  passing 

distresses ; 
For  they  complete  my  joy,  and  —  may  I  not  hope  it  —  thine 

also? 

Not  to  engage  the  stranger,  the  excellent  maid,  as  a  servant, 
Unto  the  fountain  I  came ;  but  to  sue  for  thy  love  I  came 

thither. 

Only,  alas!  my  timorous  look  could  thy  heart's  inclination 
Nowise   perceive;   I   read  in   thine   eyes   of   nothing  but 

kindness, 
As  from  the  fountain's  tranquil  mirror  thou  gavest  me 

greeting. 

Might  I  but  bring  thee  home,  the  half  of  my  joy  was  accom- 
plished. 
But  thou  completest  it  unto  me  now;  oh,  blest  be  thou 

for  it!" 
Then   with   a   deep   emotion   the   maiden   gazed    on   the 

stripling; 
Neither   forbade   she   embrace   and  kiss,   the   summit  01 

rapture, 


148  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

When  to  a  loving  pair  they  come  as  the  longed  for  assur- 
ance, 

Pledge  of  a  lifetime  of  bliss,  that  appears  to  them  now 
never-ending. 

Unto  the  others,  meanwhile,  the  pastor  had  made  ex- 
planation. 

But  with  feeling  and  grace  the  maid  now  advanced  to  the 
father, 

Bent  her  before  him,  and  kissing  the  hand  he  would  fain 
have  withholden, 

Said:  "Thou  wilt  surely  be  just  and  forgive  one  so 
startled  as  I  was, 

First  for  my  tears  of  distress,  and  now  for  the  tears  of  my 
gladness. 

That  emotion  forgive  me,  and  oh!  forgive  me  this  also. 

For  I  can  scarce  comprehend  the  happiness  newly  vouch- 
safed me. 

Yes,  let  that  first  vexation  of  which  I,  bewildered,  was  guilty 

Be,  too,  the  last.    Whatever  the  maid  of  affectionate  service 

Faithfully  promised,  shall  be  to  thee  now  performed  by  the 
daughter/' 

Straightway  then,  concealing  his  tears,  the  father  em- 
braced her, 

Cordially,  too,  the  mother  came  forward  and  kissed  her 
with  fervor, 

Pressing  her  hands  in  her  own:  the  weeping  women  were 
silent. 

Thereupon  quickly  he  seized,  the  good  and  intelligent 

pastor, 
First  the  father's  hand,  and  the  wedding-ring  drew  from 

his  finger, — 

Not  so  easily  either :  the  finger  was  plump  and  detained  it, — 
Next  took  the  mother's  ring  also,  and  with  them  betrothed 

he  the  children, 


THE  BETROTHAL 


LUDWIG    RlCHTEK 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  149 

Saying:  "  These  golden  circlets  once  more  their  office  per- 
forming 

Firmly  a  tie  shall  unite,  which  in  all  things  shall  equal  the 
old  one, 

Deeply  is  this  young  man  imbued  with  love  of  the  maiden, 

And,  as  the  maiden  confesses,  her  heart  is  gone  out  to 
him  also. 

Here  do  I  therefore  betroth  you  and  bless  for  the  years 
that  are  coming,  [a  witness." 

With  the  consent  of  the  parents,  and  having  this  friend  as 

Then  the  neighbor  saluted  at  once,  and  expressed  his 

good  wishes; 

But  when  the  clergyman  now  the  golden  circlet  was  drawing 
Over  the  maiden's  hand,  he  observed  with  amazement  the 

other, 
Which  had  already  by  Hermann  been  anxiously  marked  at 

the  fountain. 

And  with  a  kindly  raillery  thus  thereupon  he  addressed  her : 
"  So,  then  thy  second  betrothal  is  this?     Let  us  hope  the 

first  bridegroom 
May  not  appear  at  the  altar,  and  so  prohibit  the  marriage." 

But  she,  answering,  said :  * '  Oh,  let  me  to  this  recollection 
Yet  one  moment  devote ;  for  so  much  is  due  the  good  giver, 
Him  who  bestowed  it  at  parting,  and  never  came  back  to 

his  kindred. 
All  that  should  come  he  foresaw,  when  in  haste  the  passion 

for  freedom, 
When  a  desire  in  the  newly  changed  order  of  things  to  be 

working, 
Urged  him  onward  to  Paris,  where  chains  and  death  he 

encountered. 

'  Fare  thee  well,'  were  his  words ; '  I  go,  for  all  is  in  motion 
Now  for  a  time  on  the  earth,  and  every  thing  seems  to  be 

parting. 
E'en  in  the  firmest  states  fundamental  laws  are  dissolving; 


150  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Property  falls  away  from  the  hand  of  the  ancient  possessor ; 
Friend  is  parted  from  friend ;  and  so  parts  lover  from  lover. 
Here  I  leave  thee,  and  where  I  shall  find  thee  again,  or  if 

ever, 
Who  can  tell?     Perhaps  these  words  are  our  last  ones 

together. 
Man's  but  a  stranger  here  on  the  earth,  we  are  told  and 

with  reason; 
And  we  are  each  of  us  now  become  more  of  strangers  than 

ever. 
Ours  no  more  is  the  soil,  and  our  treasures  are  all  of  them 

changing : 
Silver  and  gold  are  melting  away  from  their  time-honored 

patterns. 
All  is  in  motion  as  though  the  already-shaped  world  into 

chaos 
Meant  to  resolve  itself  backward  into  night,  and  to  shape 

itself  over. 
Mine  thou  wilt  keep  thine  heart,  and  should  we  be  ever 

united 

Over  the  ruins  of  earth,  it  will  be  as  newly  made  creatures, 
Beings  transformed  and  free,  no  longer  dependent  on  for- 
tune ; 
For  can  aught  fetter  the  man  who  has  lived  through  days 

such  as  these  are ! 

But  if  it  is  not  to  be,  that,  these  dangers  happily  over, 
Ever  again  we  be  granted  the  bliss  of  mutual  embraces, 
Oh,  then  before  thy  thoughts  so  keep  my  hovering  image 
That  with  unshaken  mind  thou  be  ready  for  good  or  for 

evil! 

Should  new  ties  allure  thee  again,  and  a  new  habitation, 
Enter  with  gratitude  into  the  joys  that  fate  shall  prepare 

thee; 
Love  those  purely  who  love  thee ;  be  grateful  to  them  who 

show  kindness. 

But  thine  uncertain  foot  should  yet  be  planted  but  lightly, 
For  there  is  lurking  the  twofold  pain  of  a  new  separation. 


HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA  151 

Blessings  attend  thy  life ;  but  value  existence  no  higher 
Than   thine    other   possessions,   and   all  possessions   are 

cheating!  ' 

Thus  spoke  the  noble  youth,  and  never  again  I  beheld  him. 
Meanwhile  I  lost  my  all,  and  a  thousand  times  thought  of 

his  warning. 

Here,  too,  I  think  of  his  words,  when  love  is  sweetly  pre- 
paring 

Happiness  for  me  anew,  and  glorious  hopes  are  reviving. 
Oh,  forgive  me,  excellent  friend,  that  e  'en  while  I  hold  thee 
Close  to  my  side  I  tremble !  So  unto  the  late-landed  sailor 
Seem  the  most  solid  foundations  of  firmest  earth  to  be 
rocking." 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  placed  the  two  rings  on  her  finger 
together. 

But  her  lover  replied  with  a  noble  and  manly  emotion: 

"  So  much  the  firmer  then,  amid  these  universal  convul- 
sions, 

Be,  Dorothea,  our  union !  We  two  will  hold  fast  and  con- 
tinue, 

Firmly  maintaining  ourselves,  and  the  right  to  our  ample 
possessions. 

For  that  man,  who,  when  times  are  uncertain,  is  faltering 
in  spirit, 

Only  increases  the  evil,  and  further  and  further  transmits  it ; 

While  he  refashions  the  world,  who  keeps  himself  stead- 
fastly minded. 

Poorly  becomes  it  the  German  to  give  to  these  fearful 
excitements 

Aught  of  continuance,  or  to  be  this  way  and  that  way 
inclining. 

This  is  our  own !  let  that  be  our  word,  and  let  us  maintain  it! 

For  to  those  resolute  peoples  respect  will  be  ever  accorded, 

Who  for  God  and  the  laws,  for  parents,  women  and  children, 

Fought  and  died,  as  together  they  stood  with  their  front  to 
the  f  oeman. 


152  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Thou  art  mine  own;  and  now  what  is  mine,  is  mine  more 

than  ever. 

Not  with  anxiety  will  I  preserve  it,  and  trembling  enjoy- 
ment; 
Bather  with   courage   and   strength.     Today   should   the 

enemy  threaten, 

Or  in  the  future,  equip  me  thyself  and  hand  me  my  weapons. 
Let  me  but  know  that  under  thy  care  are  my  house  and  dear 

parents, 
Oh!     I  can  then  with  assurance  expose  my  breast  to  the 

foeman. 
And  were  but  every  man  minded  like  me,  there  would  be 

an  upspring 
Might  against  might,  and  peace  should  revisit  us  all  with 

its  gladness." 


DRAMAS 


INTRODUCTION  TO  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

BY  AKTHUR  H.  PALMER,  A.  M.,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  German  Language  and  Literature,  Yale  University 


0  what  literary  genus  does  Goethe's  Iphigenia 
belong?  Dramatic  in  form,  is  it  a  drama? 
For  A.  W.  Schlegel  "  an  echo  of  Greek 
song, ' '  and  for  many  German  critics  the  best 
modern  reproduction  of  Greek  tragedy,  it  is 
for  others  a  thoroughly  German  work  in  its  substitution 
of  profound  moral  struggles  for  the  older  passionate,  more 
external  conflicts.  Schiller  said :  "It  is,  however,  so 
astonishingly  modern  and  un-Greek,  that  I  cannot  under- 
stand how  it  was  ever  thought  to  resemble  a  Greek  play. 
It  is  purely  moral;  but  the  sensuous  power,  the  life,  the 
agitation,  and  everything  which  specifically  belongs  to  a 
dramatic  work  is  wanting."  He  adds,  however,  that  it  is 
a  marvelous  production  which  must  forever  remain  the 
delight  and  wonderment  of  mankind.  This  is  the  view 
of  G.  H.  Lewes,  whose  characterization  is  so  apt  also  in 
other  respects:  "A  drama  it  is  not;  it  is  a  marvelous 
dramatic  poem.  The  grand  and  solemn  movement  responds 
to  the  large  and  simple  ideas  which  it  unfolds.  It  has  the 
calmness  of  majesty.  In  the  limpid  clearness  of  its  lan- 
guage the  involved  mental  processes  of  the  characters  are  as 
transparent  as  the  operations  of  bees  within  a  crystal  hive ; 
while  a  constant  strain  of  high  and  lofty  music  makes  the 
reader  feel  as  if  in  a  holy  temple.  And  above  all  witcheries 
of  detail  there  is  one  capital  witchery,  belonging  to  Greek 
statues  more  than  to  other  works  of  human  cunning  —  the 
perfect  unity  of  impression  produced  by  the  whole,  so 
that  nothing  in  it  seems  made,  but  all  to  grow ;  nothing  is 
superfluous,  but  all  is  in  organic  dependence;  nothing  is 
there  for  detached  effect,  but  the  whole  is  effect.  The 
poem  fills  the  mind ;  beautiful  as  the  separate  passages  are, 

[154] 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  155 

admirers  seldom  think  of  passages,  they  think  of  the  won- 
drous whole." 

But  may  we  not  deepen  and  spiritualize  our  conception 
of  the  drama  and  say  that  in  Iphigenia,  Goethe  created  a 
new  dramatic  genus,  the  soul-drama  —  the  first  psycho- 
logical drama  of  modern  literature,  the  result  of  ethical 
and  artistic  development  through  two  milleniums  ?  Surely 
a  Greek  dramatist  of  the  first  rank,  come  to  life  again  in 
Goethe 's  age  and  entering  into  the  heritage  of  this  develop- 
ment, would  have  modernized  both  subject  and  form  in  the 
same  way. 

Most  intimate  is  the  relation  of  Iphigenia  to  Goethe's 
inner  life,  and  this  relation  best  illumines  the  spiritual 
import  of  the  drama.  Like  his  Torquato  Tasso,  it  springs 
entirely  from  conditions  and  experiences  of  the  early 
Weimar  years  and  those  just  preceding.  It  was  conceived 
and  the  first  prose  version  written  early  in  1779 ;  it  received 
its  final  metrical  form  December,  1786  —  in  Kome  indeed, 
but  it  owed  to  Italy  only  a  higher  artistic  finish. 

In  his  autobiography  Goethe  has  revealed  to  us  that 
his  works  are  fragments  of  a  great  confession.  Moods  of 
his  pre- Weimar  storm  and  stress  vibrate  in  his  Iphigenia 
—  feverish  unrest,  defiance  of  conventionality,  Titanic  trust 
in  his  individual  genius,  self-reproach,  and  remorse  for 
guilt  toward  those  he  loved, —  Friederike  and  Lili.  Thus 
feeling  his  inner  conflicts  to  be  like  the  sufferings  of 
Orestes,  he  wrote  in  a  letter,  August,  1775,  shortly  after 
returning  to  Frankfurt  from  his  first  Swiss  journey: 
"  Perhaps  the  invisible  scourge  of  the  Eumenides  will  soon 
drive  me  out  again  from  my  fatherland." 

In  November,  1775,  Goethe  went  to  Weimar,  and  there 
he  found  redemption  from  his  unrest  and  dejection  in  the 
friendship  of  Frau  von  Stein.  Her  beneficent  influence 
effected  his  new-birth  into  calm  self-control  and  harmony 
of  spirit.  On  August  7,  1779,  Goethe  wrote  in  his  diary: 
"  May  the  idea  of  purity,  extending  even  to  the  morsel  I 
take  into  my  mouth,  become  ever  more  luminous  in  me!  " 


156  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

If  Orestes  is  Goethe,  Iphigenia  is  Fran  von  Stein;  and  in 
the  personal  sense  the  theme  of  the  drama  is  the  restora- 
tion of  the  poet  to  spiritual  purity  by  the  influence  of  noble 
womanhood. 

But  there  is  a  larger,  universally  human  sense.  Such 
healing  of  Orestes  is  typically  human;  noble  womanhood 
best  realizes  the  ideal  of  the  truly  human  (Humanitat). 
In  a  way  that  transcends  understanding,  one  pure,  strong 
human  personality  may  by  its  influence  restore  moral  vigor 
and  bring  peace  and  hope  to  other  souls  rent  by  remorse 
and  sunk  in  despair.  This  Goethe  himself  expressed  as 
the  central  thought  of  this  drama  in  the  lines: 

Alle  menschlichen  Gebrechen 
Subnet  reine  Menschlichkeit 
(For  each  human  fault  and  frailty 
Pure  humanity  atones). 

The  eighteenth  century's  conception  of  "  humanity,"  the 
ideal  of  the  truly  human,  found  two-fold  classic,  artistic 
expression  in  Germany  at  the  same  time;  in  Lessing's 
Nathan  the  Wise  and  in  Goethe's  Iphigenia  in  Tauris, 
the  former  rationalistic,  the  latter  broader,  more  subtle, 
mystical. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  (1787)* 

A  DRAMA  IN  FIVE  ACTS 

TRANSLATED  BY  ANNA  SWANWICK 

Like  Torquato  lasso,  Iphigenia  was  originally  written  in  prose,  and  in 
that  form  was  acted  at  the  Weimar  Court  Theatre  about  1779.  Goethe 
himself  took  the  part  of  Orestes. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 
IPHIGENIA. 

THOAS,  King  of  the  Taurians. 
ARKAS. 


ORESTES. 
PTLADBS. 


ACT  I 

SCENE  I.    A  Grove  before  the  Temple  of  Diana. 
IPHIGENIA 

[ENEATH  your  leafy  gloom,  ye  waving  boughs 
Of  this  old,  shady,  consecrated  grove, 
As  in  the  goddess'  silent  sanctuary, 
With  the  same  shuddering  feeling  forth  I 
step, 

As  when  I  trod  it  first,  nor  ever  here 

Doth  my  unquiet  spirit  feel  at  home. 

Long  as  a  higher  will,  to  which  I  bow, 

Hath  kept  me  here  conceal'd,  still,  as  at  first, 

I  feel  myself  a  stranger.    For  the  sea 

Doth  sever  me,  alas !  from  those  I  love, 

And  day  by  day  upon  the  shore  I  stand, 

The  land  of  Hellas  seeking  with  my  soul; 

But  to  my  sighs,  the  hollow-sounding  waves 

Bring,  save  their  own  hoarse  murmurs,  no  reply. 

»  Permission  The   Macmillan   Co.,  New   York,  and  G.   Bell  &  Sons,  Ltd., 
London.  [157] 


158  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Alas  for  him!  who  friendless  and  alone, 
Remote  from  parents  and  from  brethren  dwells ; 
From  him  grief  snatches  every  coming  joy 
Ere  it  doth  reach  his  lip.    His  yearning  thoughts 
Throng  back  for  ever  to  his  father's  halls, 
Where  first  to  him  the  radiant  sun  unclosed 
The  gates  of  heav'n;  where  closer,  day  by  day, 
Brothers  and  sisters,  leagued  in  pastime  sweet, 
Around  each  other  twin'd  love's  tender  bonds. 
I  will  not  reckon  with  the  gods ;  yet  truly 
Deserving  of  lament  is  woman's  lot. 
Man  rules  alike  at  home  and  in  the  field, 
Nor  is  in  foreign  climes  without  resource; 
Him  conquest  crowneth,  him  possession  gladdens, 
And  him  an  honorable  death  awaits. 
How  circumscrib 'd  is  woman's  destiny! 
Obedience  to  a  harsh,  imperious  lord, 
Her  duty,  and  her  comfort;  sad  her  fate, 
Whom  hostile  fortune  drives  to  lands  remote! 
Thus  Thoas  holds  me  here,  a  noble  man 
Bound  with  a  heavy  though  a  sacred  chain. 

0  how  it  shames  me,  goddess,  to  confess 
That  with  repugnance  I  perform  these  rites 
For  thee,  divine  protectress!  unto  whom 

1  would  in  freedom  dedicate  my  life. 
In  thee,  Diana,  I  have  always  hoped, 
And  still  I  hope  in  thee,  who  didst  infold 
Within  the  holy  shelter  of  thine  arm 
The  outcast  daughter  of  the  mighty  king. 
Daughter  of  Jove !  hast  thou  from  ruin  'd  Troy 
Led  back  in  triumph  to  his  native  land 

The  mighty  man,  whom  thou  didst  sore  afflict, 
His  daughter's  life  in  sacrifice  demanding, — 
Hast  thou  for  him,  the  godlike  Agamemnon, 
Who  to  thine  altar  led  his  darling  child, 
Preserv'd  his  wife,  Electra,  and  his  son, 
His  dearest  treasures?  —  then  at  length  restore 


Permission  Fram  Hanfstaengl,  New  York 

IPHIGENIA 


ANSELM  FEUEKBACH 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  159 

Thy  suppliant  also  to  her  friends  and  home, 

And  save  her,  as  thou  once  from  death  didst  save, 

So  now,  from  living  here,  a  second  death. 

SCENE  II 
IPHIGENIA,  ARKAS 

ARKAS 

The  king  hath  sent  me  hither,  bade  me  greet 
With  hail,  and  fair  salute,  Diana's  priestess. 
For  new  and  wondrous  conquest,  this  the  day, 
When  to  her  goddess  Tauris  renders  thanks. 
I  hasten  on  before  the  king  and  host, 
Himself  to  herald,  and  its  near  approach. 

IPHIGENIA 

We  are  prepared  to  give  them  worthy  greeting; 
Our  goddess  doth  behold  with  gracious  eye 
The  welcome  sacrifice  from  Thoas'  hand. 

ARKAS 

Would  that  I  also  found  the  priestess'  eye, 
Much  honor 'd,  much  revered  one,  found  thine  eye, 
0  consecrated  maid,  more  calm,  more  bright, 
To  all  a  happy  omen!    Still  doth  grief, 
With  gloom  mysterious,  shroud  thy  inner  mind; 
Vainly,  through  many  a  tedious  year  we  wait 
For  one  confiding  utterance  from  thy  breast. 
Long  as  I've  known  thee  in  this  holy  place, 
That  look  of  thine  hath  ever  made  me  shudder ; 
And,  as  with  iron  bands,  thy  soul  remains 
Lock'd  in  the  deep  recesses  of  thy  breast. 

IPHIGENIA 
As  doth  become  the  exile  and  the  orphan. 

ARKAS 

Dost  thou  then  here  seem  exil'd  and  an  orphan! 

IPHIGENIA 

Can  foreign  scenes  our  fatherland  replace? 


160  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

AEKAS 

Thy  fatherland  is  foreign  now  to  thee. 

IPHIGBNIA 

Hence  is  it  that  my  bleeding  heart  ne'er  heals. 
In  early  youth,  when  first  my  soul,  in  love, 
Held  father,  mother,  brethren  fondly  twin'd, 
A  group  of  tender  germs,  in  union  sweet, 
We  sprang  in  beauty  from  the  parent  stem, 
And  heavenward  grew;  alas,  a  foreign  curse 
Then  seized  and  sever 'd  me  from  those  I  loved, 
And  wrench 'd  with  iron  grasp  the  beauteous  bands. 
It  vanished  then,  the  fairest  charm  of  youth, 
The  simple  gladness  of  life 's  early  dawn ; 
Though  sav'd  I  was  a  shadow  of  myself, 
And  life's  fresh  joyance  blooms  in  me  no  more. 

ARKAS 

If  thou  wilt  ever  call  thyself  unblest, 
I  must  accuse  thee  of  ingratitude. 

IPHIGENIA 
Thanks  have  you  ever. 

ARKAS 

Not  the  honest  thanks 
Which  prompt  the  heart  to  offices  of  love; 
The  joyous  glance,  revealing  to  the  host 
A  grateful  spirit,  with  its  lot  content. 
When  thee  a  deep  mysterious  destiny 
Brought  to  this  sacred  fane,  long  years  ago, 
To  greet  thee,  as  a  treasure  sent  from  heaven, 
With  reverence  and  affection,  Thoas  came. 
Benign  and  friendly  was  this  shore  to  thee, 
To  every  stranger  else  with  horror  fraught, 
For,  till  thy  coming,  none  e'er  trod  our  realm 
But  fell,  according  to  an  ancient  rite, 
A  bloody  victim  at  Diana's  shrine. 


IPfflGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  161 

IPHIGENIA 

Freely  to  breathe  alone  is  not  to  live. 
Say,  is  it  life,  within  this  holy  fane, 
Like  a  poor  ghost  around  its  sepulchre 
To  linger  out  my  days?    Or  call  you  that 
A  life  of  conscious  happiness  and  joy, 
When  every  hour,  dream 'd  listlessly  away, 
Still  leadeth  onward  to  those  gloomy  days, 
Which  the  sad  troop  of  the  departed  spend 
In  self-forgetfulness  on  Lethe's  shore! 
A  useless  life  is  but  an  early  death; 
This  woman's  destiny  hath  still  been  mine. 

ABKAS 

I  can  forgive,  though  I  must  needs  deplore, 
The  noble  pride  which  underrates  itself; 
It  robs  thee  of  the  happiness  of  life. 
But  hast  thou,  since  thy  coming  here,  done  naught! 
Who  hath  the  monarch's  gloomy  temper  cheered! 
Who  hath  with  gentle  eloquence  annull'd, 
From  year  to  year,  the  usage  of  our  sires, 
By  which,  a  victim  at  Diana's  shrine, 
Each  stranger  perish 'd,  thus  from  certain  death 
Sending  so  oft  the  rescued  captive  home! 
Hath  not  Diana,  harboring  no  revenge 
For  this  suspension  of  her  bloody  rites, 
In  richest  measure  heard  thy  gentle  prayer! 
On  joyous  pinions  o'er  the  advancing  host, 
Doth  not  triumphant  conquest  proudly  soar! 
And  feels  not  every  one  a  happier  lot, 
Since  Thoas,  who  so  long  hath  guided  us 
With  wisdom  and  with  valor,  sway'd  by  thee. 
The  joy  of  mild  benignity  approves, 
Which  leads  him  to  relax  the  rigid  claims 
Of  mute  submission!    Call  thyself  useless!    Thou, 
When  from  thy  being  o  'er  a  thousand  hearts, 
A  healing  balsam  flows !  when  to  a  race, 
VOL.  I— 11 


162  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

To  whom  >a  god  consign 'd  thee,  thou  dost  prove 
A  fountain  of  perpetual  happiness, 
And  from  this  dire  inhospitable  coast, 
Dost  to  the  stranger  grant  a  safe  return? 

IPHIGENIA 

The  little  done  doth  vanish  to  the  mind, 
Which  forward  sees  how  much  remains  to  do. 

ABKAS 

Him  dost  thou  praise,  who  underrates  his  deeds! 

IPHIGENIA 

Who  weigheth  his  own  deeds  is  justly  blam'd. 

ABKAS 

He  too,  real  worth  too  proudly  who  condemns, 
As  who,  too  vainly,  spurious  worth  o'er-rateth. 
Trust  me,  and  heed  the  counsel  of  a  man 
With  honest  zeal  devoted  to  thy  service: 
When  Thoas  comes  today  to  speak  with  thee, 
Lend  to  his  purposed  words  a  gracious  ear. 

IPHIGENIA 

Thy  well-intention 'd  counsel  troubles  me: 
His  offer  I  have  ever  sought  to  shun. 

ABKAS 

Thy  duty  and  thy  interest  calmly  weigh. 
Sithence  King  Thoas  lost  his  son  and  heir, 
Among  his  followers  he  trusts  but  few, 
And  trusts  those  few  no  more  as  formerly. 
With  jealous  eye  he  views  each  noble's  son 
As  the  successor  of  his  realm,  he  dreads 
A  solitary,  helpless  age  —  perchance 
Sudden  rebellion  and  untimely  death. 
A  Scythian  studies  not  the  rules  of  speech, 
And  least  of  all  the  king.    He  who  is  used 
To  act  and  to  command,  knows  not  the  art, 
From  far,  with  subtle  tact,  to  guide  discourse 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  163 

Through  many  windings  to  its  destin'd  goal. 
Thwart  not  his  purpose  by  a  cold  refusal, 
By  an  intended  misconception.    Meet, 
With  gracious  mien,  half-way  the  royal  wish. 

IPHIGENIA 
Shall  I  then  speed  the  doom  that  threatens  me? 

ARKAS 
His  gracious  offer  canst  thou  call  a  threat? 

IPHIGENIA 

"Pis  the  most  terrible  of  all  to  me. 

AEKAS 
For  his  affection  grant  him  confidence. 

IPHIGENIA 

If  he  will  first  redeem  my  soul  from  fear. 

ABKAS 
Why  dost  thou  hide  from  him  thy  origin? 

IPHIGENIA 

A  priestess  secrecy  doth  well  become. 

ARKAS 

Naught  to  a  monarch  should  a  secret  be ; 
And,  though  he  doth  not  seek  to  fathom  thine, 
His  noble  nature  feels,  ay,  deeply  feels, 
That  thou  with  care  dost  hide  thyself  from  him. 

IPHIGENIA 
Ill-will  and  anger  harbors  he  against  me? 

ARKAS 

Almost  it  seems  so.    True,  he  speaks  not  of  thee, 
But  casual  words  have  taught  me  that  the  wish 
Thee  to  possess  hath  firmly  seiz'd  his  soul; 
0  leave  him  not  a  prey  unto  himself, 
Lest  his  displeasure,  rip'ning  in  his  breast, 
Should  work  thee  woe,  so  with  repentance  thou 
Too  late  my  faithful  counsel  shalt  recall. 


164  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

How!  doth  the  monarch  purpose  what  no  man 
Of  noble  mind,  who  loves  his  honest  name, 
Whose  bosom  reverence  for  the  gods  restrains, 
Would  ever  think  of?    Will  he  force  employ 
To  drag  me  from  the  altar  to  his  bed? 
Then  will  I  call  the  gods,  and  chiefly  thee, 
Diana,  goddess  resolute,  to  aid  me ; 
Thyself  a  virgin,  wilt  a  virgin  shield, 
And  to  thy  priestess  gladly  render  aid. 

ARKAS 

Be  tranquil!    Passion,  and  youth's  fiery  blood 
Impel  not  Thoas  rashly  to  commit 
A  deed  so  lawless.    In  his  present  mood, 
I  fear  from  him  another  harsh  resolve, 
Which  (for  his  soul  is  steadfast  and  unmov'd) 
He  then  will  execute  without  delay. 
Therefore  I  pray  thee,  canst  thou  grant  no  more ; 
At  least  be  grateful — give  thy  confidence. 

IPHIGENIA 
Oh  tell  me  what  is  further  known  to  thee. 

AEKAS 

Learn  it  from  him.     I  see  the  king  approach: 
Him  thou  dost  honor,  thine  own  heart  enjoins 
To  meet  him  kindly  and  with  confidence. 
A  man  of  noble  mind  may  oft  be  led 
By  woman's  gentle  word. 

IPHIGENIA  (alone) 

How  to  observe 

His  faithful  counsel  see  I  not  in  sooth. 
But  willingly  the  duty  I  perform 
Of  giving  thanks  for  benefits  receiv'd, 
And  much  I  wish  that  to  the  king  my  lips 
With  truth  could  utter  what  would  please  his  ear. 


165 


SCENE  III 
IPHIGENIA,  THOAS 

IPHIGENIA 

Her  royal  gifts  the  goddess  shower  on  thee 
Imparting  conquest,  wealth,  and  high  renown 
Dominion,  and  the  welfare  of  thy  house, 
With  the  fulfilment  of  each  pious  wish, 
That  thou,  whose  sway  for  multitudes  provides, 
Thyself  may'st  be  supreme  in  happiness! 

THOAS 

Contented  were  I  with  my  people 's  praise ; 
My  conquests  others  more  than  I  enjoy. 
Oh!  be  he  king  or  subject,  he's  most  blest, 
Whose  happiness  is  centred  in  his  home. 
My  deep  affliction  thou  didst  share  with  me 
What  time,  in  war's  encounter,  the  fell  sword 
Tore  from  my  side  my  last,  my  dearest  son ; 
So  long  as  fierce  revenge  possessed  my  heart, 
I  did  not  feel  my  dwelling's  dreary  void; 
But  now,  returning  home,  my  rage  appeas'd, 
Their  kingdom  wasted,  and  my  son  aveng'd, 
I  find  there  nothing  left  to  comfort  me. 
The  glad  obedience  I  was  wont  to  see 
Kindling  in  every  eye,  is  smother 'd  now 
In  discontent  and  gloom;  each,  pondering,  weighs 
The  changes  which  a  future  day  may  bring, 
And  serves  the  childless  king,  because  he  must. 
Today  I  come  within  this  sacred  fane, 
Which  I  have  often  enter 'd  to  implore 
And  thank  the  gods  for  conquest.    In  my  breast 
I  bear  an  old  and  fondly-cherish'd  wish, 
To  which  methinks  thou  canst  not  be  a  stranger ; 
I  hope,  a  blessing  to  myself  and  realm, 
To  lead  thee  to  my  dwelling  as  my  bride. 


166  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

Too  great  thine  offer,  king,  to  one  unknown ; 
Abash  M  the  fugitive  before  thee  stands, 
Who  on  this  shore  sought  only  what  thou  gavest, 
Safety  and  peace. 

THOAS 

Thus  still  to  shroud  thyself 
From,  me,  as  from  the  lowest,  in  the  veil 
Of  mystery  which  wrapp'd  thy  coming  here, 
Would  in  no  country  be  deem  'd  just  or  right. 
Strangers  this  shore  appall'd;  'twas  so  ordain 'd, 
Alike  by  law  and  stern  necessity. 
From  thee  alone  —  a  kindly  welcom  'd  guest, 
Who  hast  enjoy 'd  each  hallo w'd  privilege, 
And  spent  thy  days  in  freedom  unrestrained  — 
From  thee  I  hop'd  that  confidence  to  gain 
Which  every  faithful  host  may  justly  claim. 

IPHIGENIA 

If  I  conceal 'd,  O  king,  my  name,  my  race, 
It  was  embarrassment,  and  not  mistrust. 
For  didst  thou  know  who  stands  before  thee  now, 
And  what  accursed  head  thine  arm  protects, 
Strange  horror  would  possess  thy  mighty  heart; 
And,  far  from  wishing  me  to  share  thy  throne, 
Thou,  ere  the  time  appointed,  from  thy  realm 
Wouldst  banish  me ;  wouldst  thrust  me  forth,  perchance 
Before  a  glad  reunion  with  my  friends 
And  period  to  my  wand 'rings  is  ordain 'd, 
To  meet  that  sorrow,  which  in  every  clime, 
With  cold,  inhospitable,  fearful  hand, 
Awaits  the  outcast,  exil'd  from  his  home. 

THOAS 

Whate'er  respecting  thee  the  gods  decree, 
Whate'er  their  doom  for  thee  and  for  thy  house, 
Since  thou  hast  dwelt  amongst  us,  and  enjoy 'd 
The  privilege  the  pious  stranger  claims, 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  167 

To  me  hath  fail'd  no  blessing  sent  from  heaven; 
And  to  persuade  me,  that  protecting  thee 
I  shield  a  guilty  head,  were  hard  indeed. 

IPHIGENIA 
Thy  bounty,  not  the  guest,  draws  blessings  down. 

THOAS 

The  kindness  shown  the  wicked  is  not  blest. 
End  then  thy  silence,  priestess;  not  unjust 
Is  he  who  doth  demand  it.    In  my  hands 
The  goddess  placed  thee;  thou  hast  been  to  me 
As  sacred  as  to  her,  and  her  behest 
Shall  for  the  future  also  be  my  law : 
If  thou  canst  hope  in  safety  to  return 
Back  to  thy  kindred,  I  renounce  my  claims : 
But  is  thy  homeward  path  for  ever  closed  — 
Or  doth  thy  race  in  hopeless  exile  rove, 
Or  lie  extinguish 'd  by  some  mighty  woe  — 
Then  may  I  claim  thee  by  more  laws  than  one. 
Speak  openly,  thou  know'st  I  keep  my  word. 

IPHIGENIA 

Its  ancient  bands  reluctantly  my  tongue 
Doth  loose,  a  long  hid  secret  to  divulge ; 
For  once  imparted,  it  resumes  no  more 
The  safe  asylum  of  the  inmost  heart, 
But  thenceforth,  as  the  powers  above  decree, 
Doth  work  its  ministry  of  weal  or  woe. 
Attend!    I  issue  from  the  Titan's  race. 

THOAS 

A  word  momentous  calmly  hast  thou  spoken. 
Him  nam'st  thou  ancestor  whom  all  the  world 
Knows  as  a  sometime  favorite  of  the  gods? 
Is  it  that  Tantalus,  whom  Jove  himself 
Drew  to  his  council  and  his  social  board  f 
On  whose  experienc'd  words,  with  wisdom  fraught, 
As  on  the  language  of  an  oracle, 
E'en  gods  delighted  hungf 


168  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

'Tis  even  he; 

But  the  immortal  gods  with  mortal  men 
Should  not,  on  equal  terms,  hold  intercourse ; 
For  all  too  feeble  is  the  human  race, 
Not  to  grow  dizzy  on  unwonted  heights. 
Ignoble  was  he  not,  and  no  betrayer ; 
To  be  the  Thunderer's  slave,  he  was  too  great; 
To  be  his  friend  and  comrade, —  but  a  man. 
His  crime  was  human,  and  their  doom  severe ; 
For  poets  sing,  that  treachery  and  pride 
Did  from  Jove's  table  hurl  him  headlong  down 
To  grovel  in  the  depths  of  Tartarus. 
Alas,  and  his  whole  race  must  bear  their  hate. 

THOAS 
Bear  they  their  own  guilt,  or  their  ancestor's? 

IPHIGENIA 

The  Titan's  mighty  breast  and  nervous  frame 

Was  his  descendants'  certain  heritage; 

But  round  their  brow  Jove  forg'd  a  band  of  brass. 

Wisdom  and  patience,  prudence  and  restraint, 

He  from  their  gloomy,  fearful  eye  conceal 'd; 

In  them  each  passion  grew  to  savage  rage, 

And  headlong  rush'd  with  violence  uncheck'd. 

Already  Pelops,  Tantalus'  loved  son, 

Mighty  of  will,  obtained  his  beauteous  bride, 

Hippodamia,  child  of  CEnomaus, 

Through  treachery  and  murder;  she  ere  long, 

To  glad  her  consort's  heart,  bare  him  two  sons, 

Thyest  and  Atreus.    They  with  envy  marked 

The  ever-growing  love  their  father  bare 

To  his  first-born,  sprung  from  another  union. 

Hate  leagued  the  pair,  and  secretly  they  wrought, 

In  fratricide,  the  first  dread  crime.    The  sire 

Hippodamia  held  as  murderess, 

With  savage  rage  he  claim 'd  from  her  his  son, 

And  she  in  terror  did  destroy  herself — 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  169 

THOAS 

Thou'rt  silent!    Pause  not  in  thy  narrative; 
Repent  not  of  thy  confidence  —  say  on ! 

IPHIGENIA 

How  blest  is  he  who  his  progenitors 
With  pride  remembers,  to  the  listener  tells 
The  story  of  their  greatness,  of  their  deeds, 
And,  silently  rejoicing,  sees  himself 
The  latest  link  of  this  illustrious  chain! 
For  seldom  does  the  selfsame  stock  produce 
The  monster  and  the  demigod:  a  line 
Of  good  or  evil  ushers  in,  at  last, 
The  glory  or  the  terror  of  the  world. — 
After  the  death  of  Pelops,  his  two  sons 
Rul'd  o'er  the  city  with  divided  sway. 
But  such  an  union  could  not  long  endure. 
His  brother's  honor  first  Thyestes  wounds. 
In  vengeance  Atreus  drove  him  from  the  realm. 
Thyestes,  planning  horrors,  long  before 
Had  stealthily  procur'd  his  brother's  son, 
Whom  he  in  secret  nurtur'd  as  his  own. 
Revenge  and  fury  in  his  breast  he  pour'd, 
Then  to  the  royal  city  sent  him  forth, 
That  in  his  uncle  he  might  slay  his  sire. 
The  meditated  murder  was  disclos'd, 
And  by  the  king  most  cruelly  aveng'd, 
Who  slaughter 'd  as  he  thought,  his  brother's  son. 
Too  late  he  learn 'd  whose  dying  tortures  met 
His  drunken  gaze ;  and  seeking  to  assuage 
The  insatiate  vengeance  that  possess 'd  his  soul, 
He  plann'd  a  deed  unheard  of.    He  assum'd 
A  friendly  tone,  seem'd  reconcil'd,  appeas'd, 
And  lur'd  his  brother,  with  his  children  twain, 
Back  to  his  kingdom;  these  he  seiz'd  and  slew; 
Then  plac'd  the  loathsome  and  abhorrent  food 
At  his  first  meal  before  the  unconscious  sire. 


170  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  when  Thyestes  had  his  hunger  still 'd 

With  his  own  flesh,  a  sadness  seiz'd  his  soul; 

He  for  his  children  ask'd, —  their  steps,  their  voice 

Fancied  he  heard  already  at  the  door; 

And  Atreus,  grinning  with  malicious  joy, 

Threw  in  the  members  of  the  slaughter 'd  boys. — 

Shudd'ring,  0  king,  thou  dost  avert  thy  face: 

So  did  the  sun  his  radiant  visage  hide, 

And  swerve  his  chariot  from  the  eternal  path. 

These,  monarch,  are  thy  priestess '  ancestors, 

And  many  a  dreadful  fate  of  mortal  doom, 

And  many  a  deed  of  the  be  wilder 'd  brain, 

Dark  night  doth  cover  with  her  sable  wing, 

Or  shroud  in  gloomy  twilight. 

THOAS 

Hidden  there 

Let  them  abide.    A  truce  to  horror  now, 
And  tell  me  by  what  miracle  thou  sprangest 
From  race  so  savage. 

IPHIGENIA 

Atreus'  eldest  son 

Was  Agamemnon ;  he,  0  king,  my  sire : 
But  I  may  say  with  truth,  that,  from  a  child, 
In  him  the  model  of  a  perfect  man 
I  witness 'd  ever.    Clytemnestra  bore 
To  him,  myself,  the  firstling  of  their  love, 
Electra  then.    Peaceful  the  monarch  rul'd, 
And  to  the  house  of  Tantalus  was  given 
A  long-withheld  repose.    A  son  alone 
Was  wanting  to  complete  my  parents '  bliss ; 
Scarce  was  this  wish  fulfill 'd,  and  young  Orestes, 
The  household's  darling,  with  his  sisters  grew, 
When  new  misfortunes  vex'd  our  ancient  house. 
To  you  hath  come  the  rumor  of  the  war, 
Which,  to  avenge  the  fairest  woman's  wrongs, 
The  force  united  of  the  Grecian  kings 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  171 

Round  Dion's  walls  encamp 'd.    Whether  the  town 

Was  humbled,  and  achieved  their  great  revenge, 

I  have  not  heard.    My  father  led  the  host. 

In  Aulis  vainly  for  a  favoring  gale 

They  waited;  for,  enrag'd  against  their  chief, 

Diana  stay'd  their  progress,  and  requir'd, 

Through  Chalcas'  voice,  the  monarch's  eldest  daughter. 

They  lured  me  with  my  mother  to  the  camp, 

They  dragged  me  to  the  altar,  and  this  head 

There  to  the  goddess  doomed. —  She  was  appeased; 

She  did  not  wish  my  blood,  and  shrouded  me 

In  a  protecting  cloud ;  within  this  temple 

I  first  awakened  from  the  dream  of  death; 

Yes,  I  myself  am  she,  Iphigenia, 

Grandchild  of  Atreus,  Agamemnon's  child, 

Diana's  priestess,  I  who  speak  with  thee. 

THOAS 

I  yield  no  higher  honor  or  regard 
To  the  king's  daughter  than  the  maid  unknown; 
Once  more  my  first  proposal  I  repeat; 
Come  follow  me,  and  share  what  I  possess. 

IPHIGENIA 

How  dare  I  venture  such  a  step,  0  king? 
Hath  not  the  goddess  who  protected  me 
Alone  a  right  to  my  devoted  head? 
'Twas  she  who  chose  for  me  this  sanctuary, 
Where  she  perchance  reserves  me  for  my  sire, 
By  my  apparent  death  enough  chastis'd, 
To  be  the  joy  and  solace  of  his  age. 
Perchance  my  glad  return  is  near;  and  how, 
If  I,  unmindful  of  her  purposes, 
Had  here  attach 'd  myself  against  her  will! 
I  ask'd  a  signal,  did  she  wish  my  stay. 

THOAS 

The  signal  is  that  still  thou  tarriest  here. 
Seek  not  evasively  such  vain  pretexts. 


172  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Not  many  words  are  needed  to  refuse, 
The  no  alone  is  heard  by  the  refused. 

IPHIGENIA 

Mine  are  not  words  meant  only  to  deceive ; 
I  have  to  thee  my  inmost  heart  reveal 'd. 
And  doth  no  inward  voice  suggest  to  thee, 
How  I  with  yearning  soul  must  pine  to  see 
My  father,  mother,  and  my  long-lost  home? 
Oh  let  thy  vessels  bear  me  thither,  king? 
That  in  the  ancient  halls,  where  sorrow  still 
In  accents  low  doth  fondly  breathe  my  name, 
Joy,  as  in  welcome  of  a  new-born  child, 
May  round  the  columns  twine  the  fairest  wreath. 
New  life  thou  wouldst  to  me  and  mine  impart. 

THOAS 

Then  go!    Obey  the  promptings  of  thy  heart; 

And  to  the  voice  of  reason  and  good  counsel, 

Close  thou  thine  ear.    Be  quite  the  woman,  give 

To  every  wish  the  rein,  that  brideless 

May  seize  on  thee,  and  whirl  thee  here  and  there. 

When  burns  the  fire  of  passion  in  her  breast, 

No  sacred  tie  withholds  her  from  the  wretch 

Who  would  allure  her  to  forsake  for  him 

A  husband's  or  a  father's  guardian  arms; 

Extinct  within  her  heart  its  fiery  glow, 

The  golden  tongue  of  eloquence  in  vain 

With  words  of  truth  and  power  assails  her  ear. 

IPHIGENIA 

Remember  now,  0  king,  thy  noble  words! 

My  trust  and  candor  wilt  thou  thus  repay? 

Thou  seem'st,  methinks,  prepar'd  to  hear  the  truth. 

THOAS 

For  this  unlock 'd-f or  answer  not  prepar'd. 
Yet  'twas  to  be  expected ;  knew  I  not 
That  with  a  woman  I  had  now  to  deal! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  173 

IPHIGENIA 

Upbraid  not  thus,  O  king,  our  feeble  sex! 
Though  not  in  dignity  to  match  with  yours, 
The  weapons  woman  wields  are  not  ignoble. 
And  trust  me,  Thoas,  in  thy  happiness 
I  have  a  deeper  insight  than  thyself. 
Thou  thinkest,  ignorant  alike  of  both, 
A  closer  union  would  augment  our  bliss ; 
Inspir'd  with  confidence  and  honest  zeal 
Thou  strongly  urgest  me  to  yield  consent; 
And  here  I  thank  the  gods,  who  give  me  strength 
To  shun  a  doom  unratified  by  them. 

THOAS 
'Tis  not  a  god,  'tis  thine  own  heart  that  speaks. 

IPHIGENIA 

Tis  through  the  heart  alone  they  speak  to  us. 

THOAS 
To  hear  them  have  I  not  an  equal  right! 

IPHIGENIA 
The  raging  tempest  drowns  the  still  small  voice. 

THOAS 
This  voice  no  doubt  the  priestess  hears  alone. 

IPHIGENIA 

Before  all  others  should  the  prince  attend  it. 

THOAS 

Thy  sacred  office,  and  ancestral  right 
To  Jove's  own  table,  place  thee  with  the  gods 
In  closer  union  than  an  earth-born  savage. 

IPHIGENIA 

Thus  must  I  now  the  confidence  atone 
Thyself  didst  wring  from  me ! 


174  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

THOAS 

I  am  a  man. 

And  better  'tis  we  end  this  conference. 
Hear  then  my  last  resolve.    Be  priestess  still 
Of  the  great  goddess  who  selected  thee ; 
And  may  she  pardon  me,  that  I  from  her, 
Unjustly  and  with  secret  self-reproach, 
Her  ancient  sacrifice  so  long  withheld. 
From  olden  time  no  stranger  near'd  our  shore 
But  fell  a  victim  at  her  sacred  shrine. 
But  thou,  with  kind  affection  (which  at  times 
Seem'd  like  a  gentle  daughter's  tender  love, 
At  times  assum'd  to  my  enraptur'd  heart 
The  modest  inclination  of  a  bride), 
Didst  so  inthral  me,  as  with  magic  bonds, 
That  I  forgot  my  duty.    Thou  didst  rock 
My  senses  in  a  dream:    I  did  not  hear 
My  people 's  murmurs :  now  they  cry  aloud, 
Ascribing  my  poor  son's  untimely  death 
To  this  my  guilt.    No  longer  for  thy  sake 
Will  I  oppose  the  wishes  of  the  crowd, 
Who  urgently  demand  the  sacrifice. 

IPHIGENIA 

For  mine  own  sake  I  ne'er  desired  it  from  thee. 
Who  to  the  gods  ascribe  a  thirst  for  blood 
Do  misconceive  their  nature,  and  impute 
To  them  their  own  inhuman  dark  desires. 
Did  not  Diana  snatch  me  from  the  priest, 
Holding  my  service  dearer  than  my  death? 

THOAS 

'Tis  not  for  us,  on  reason's  shifting  grounds, 
Lightly  to  guide  and  construe  rites  divine. 
Perform  thy  duty;  I'll  accomplish  mine. 
Two  strangers,  whom  in  caverns  of  the  shore 
We  found  conceal 'd,  and  whose  arrival  here 
Bodes  to  my  realm  no  good,  are  in  my  power. 
With  them  thy  goddess  may  once  more  resume 
Her  ancient,  pious,  long-suspended  rites! 
I  send  them  here, —  thy  duty  not  unknown.  [Exit.] 


175 


IPHIGENIA  (alone) 

Gracious  protectress !  thou  hast  clouds 
To  shelter  innocence  distress 'd, 
And  from  the  arms  of  iron  fate, 
Gently  to  waft  her  o'er  the  sea, 
O'er  the  wide  earth's  remotest  realms, 
Where'er  it  seemeth  good  to  thee. 
Wise  art  thou, —  thine  all-seeing  eye 
The  future  and  the  past  surveys; 
Thy  glance  doth  o  'er  thy  children  rest, 
E  'en  as  thy  light,  the  life  of  night, 
Keeps  o'er  the  earth  its  silent  watch. 
0  Goddess !  keep  my  hands  from  blood ! 
Blessing  it  never  brings,  and  peace ; 
And  still  in  evil  hours  the  form 
Of  the  chance-murder 'd  man  appears 
To  fill  the  unwilling  murderer's  soul 
With  horrible  and  gloomy  fears. 
For  fondly  the  Immortals  view 
Man's  widely  scatter 'd  simple  race; 
And  the  poor  mortal's  transient  life 
Gladly  prolong,  that  he  may  lift 
Awhile  to  their  eternal  heavens 
His  sympathetic  joyous  gaze. 

ACT  II 

SCENE  I 
ORESTES,  PYLADES 

ORESTES 

It  is  the  path  of  death  that  now  we  tread: 
At  every  step  my  soul  grows  more  serene. 
When  I  implor'd  Apollo  to  remove 
The  grisly  band  of  Furies  from  my  side, 
He  seem'd,  with  hope-inspiring,  godlike  words, 
To  promise  aid  and  safety  in  the  fane 
Of  his  lov'd  sister,  who  o'er  Tauris  rules. 


176  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Thus  the  prophetic  word  fulfils  itself, 

That  with  my  life  shall  terminate  my  woe. 

How  easy  'tis  for  me,  whose  heart  is  crush M, 

Whose  sense  is  deaden  M  by  a  hand  divine, 

Thus  to  renounce  the  beauteous  light  of  day! 

And  must  the  son  of  Atreus  not  entwine 

The  wreath  of  conquest  round  his  dying  brow  — 

Must  I,  as  my  forefathers,  as  my  sire, 

Bleed  like  a  victim, —  an  ignoble  death  — 

So  be  it !    Better  at  the  altar  here, 

Than  in  a  nook  obscure,  where  kindred  hands 

Have  spread  assassination's  wily  net. 

Yield  me  this  brief  repose,  infernal  Powers! 

Ye,  who,  like  loosen 'd  hounds,  still  scent  the  blood 

Which,  trickling  from  my  feet,  betrays  my  path. 

Leave  me !  ere  long  I  come  to  you  below. 

Nor  you,  nor  I,  should  view  the  light  of  day. 

The  soft  green  carpet  of  the  beauteous  earth 

Is  no  arena  for  unhallow'd  fiends. 

Below  I  seek  you,  where  an  equal  fate 

Binds  all  in  murky,  never-ending  night. 

Thee  only,  thee,  my  Pylades,  my  friend, 

The  guiltless  partner  of  my  crime  and  curse, 

Thee  am  I  loath,  before  thy  time,  to  take 

To  yonder  cheerless  shore !    Thy  life  or  death 

Alone  awakens  in  me  hope  or  fear. 

PYLADES 

Like  thee,  Orestes,  I  am  not  prepared 
Downwards  to  wander  to  yon  realm  of  shade. 
I  purpose  still,  through  the  entangled  paths, 
Which  seem  as  they  would  lead  to  blackest  night, 
Again  to  wind  our  upward  way  to  life. 
Of  death  I  think  not ;  I  observe  and  mark 
Whether  the  gods  may  not  perchance  present 
Means  and  fit  moment  for  a  joyful  flight. 
Dreaded  or  not,  the  stroke  of  death  must  come; 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  177 

And  though  the  priestess  stood  with  hand  uprais'd, 

Prepar'd  to  cut  our  consecrated  locks, 

Our  safety  still  should  be  my  only  thought; 

Uplift  thy  soul  above  this  weak  despair; 

Desponding  doubts  but  hasten  on  our  peril. 

Apollo  pledg'd  to  us  his  sacred  word, 

That  in  his  sister's  holy  fane  for  thee 

Were  comfort,  aid,  and  glad  return  prepared. 

The  words  of  Heaven  are  not  equivocal, 

As  in  despair  the  poor  oppress 'd  one  thinks. 

ORESTES 

The  mystic  web  of  life  my  mother  cast 
Around  my  infant  head,  and  so  I  grew 
An  image  of  my  sire ;  and  my  mute  look 
Was  aye  a  bitter  and  a  keen  reproof 
To  her  and  base  ^Egisthus.    Oh,  how  oft, 
When  silently  within  our  gloomy  hall 
Electra  sat,  and  mus'd  beside  the  fire, 
Have  I  with  anguish 'd  spirit  climb 'd  her  knee, 
And  watch 'd  her  bitter  tears  with  sad  amaze! 
Then  would  she  tell  me  of  our  noble  sire : 
How  much  I  long'd  to  see  him  —  be  with  him! 
Myself  at  Troy  one  moment  fondly  wish'd, 
My  sire's  return,  the  next.    The  day  arrived  — 

PYLADES 

Oh,  of  that  awful  hour  let  fiends  of  hell 
Hold  nightly  converse !    Of  a  time  more  fair 
May  the  remembrance  animate  our  hearts 
To  fresh  heroic  deeds.    The  gods  require 
On  this  wide  earth  the  service  of  the  good, 
To  work  their  pleasure.    Still  they  count  on  thee; 
For  in  thy  father's  train  they  sent  thee  not, 
When  he  to  Orcus  went  unwilling  down. 

ORESTES 

Would  I  had  seized  the  border  of  his  robe, 
And  followed  him! 

VOL.  1  —  12 


178  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

PYLADES 

They  kindly  cared  for  me 

Who  held  thee  here;  for  hadst  thou  ceased  to  live, 
I  know  not  what  had  then  become  of  me ; 
Since  I  with  thee,  and  for  thy  sake  alone, 
Have  from  my  childhood  liv'd,  and  wish  to  live. 

ORESTES 

Remind  me  not  of  those  delightsome  days, 
When  me  thy  home  a  safe  asylum  gave; 
With  fond  solicitude  thy  noble  sire 
The  half-nipp'd,  tender  flow 'ret  gently  rear'd: 
While  thou,  a  friend  and  playmate  always  gay, 
Like  to  a  light  and  brilliant  butterfly 
Around  a  dusky  flower,  didst  day  by  day 
Around  me  with  new  life  thy  gambols  urge, 
And  breathe  thy  joyous  spirit  in  my  soul, 
Until,  my  cares  forgetting,  I  with  thee 
Was  lur'd  to  snatch  the  eager  joys  of  youth. 

PYLADES 
My  very  life  began  when  thee  I  lov'd. 

ORESTES 

Say,  then  thy  woes  began,  and  thou  speak 'st  truly. 
This  is  the  sharpest  sorrow  of  my  lot, 
That,  like  a  plague-infected  wretch,  I  bear 
Death  and  destruction  hid  within  my  breast; 
That,  where  I  tread,  e'en  on  the  healthiest  spot, 
Ere  long  the  blooming  faces  round  betray 
The  anguish  'd  features  of  a  ling 'ring  death. 

PYLADES 

Were  thy  breath  venom,  I  had  been  the  first 
To  die,  that  death,  Orestes.     Am  I  not, 
As  ever,  full  of  courage  and  of  joy? 
And  love  and  courage  are  the  spirit's  wings 
Wafting  to  noble  actions. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  179 

ORESTES 

Noble  actions? 

Time  was,  when  fancy  painted  such  before  us! 
When  oft,  the  game  pursuing,  on  we  roam'd 
O'er  hill  and  valley;  hoping  that  ere  long, 
Like  our  great  ancestors  in  heart  and  hand, 
With  club  and  weapon  arm'd,  we  so  might  track 
The  robber  to  his  den,  or  monster  huge. 
And  then  at  twilight,  by  the  boundless  sea, 
Peaceful  we  sat,  reclin'd  against  each  other, 
The  waves  came  dancing  to  our  very  feet, 
And  all  before  us  lay  the  wide,  wide  world; 
Then  on  a  sudden  one  would  seize  his  sword, 
And  future  deeds  shone  round  us  like  the  stars, 
Which  gemm'd  in  countless  throngs  the  vault  of  night. 

PYIADES 

Endless,  my  friend,  the  projects  which  the  soul 
Burns  to  accomplish.     We  would  every  deed 
At  once  perform  as  grandly  as  it  shows 
After  long  ages,  when  from  land  to  land 
The  poet's  swelling  song  hath  roll'd  it  on. 
It  sounds  so  lovely  what  our  fathers  did, 
When,  in  the  silent  evening  shade  reclin'd, 
We  drink  it  in  with  music's  melting  tones; 
And  what  we  do  is,  as  their  deeds  to  them, 
Toilsome  and  incomplete ! 
Thus  we  pursue  what  always  flies  before; 
We  disregard  the  path  in  which  we  tread, 
Scarce  see  around  the  footsteps  of  our  sires, 
Or  heed  the  trace  of  their  career  on  earth. 
We  ever  hasten  on  to  chase  their  shades, 
Which,  godlike,  at  a  distance  far  remote, 
On  golden  clouds,  the  mountain  summits  crown. 
The  man  I  prize  not  who  esteems  himself 
Just  as  the  people's  breath  may  chance  to  raise  him. 
But  thou,  Orestes,  to  the  gods  give  thanks. 
That  they  through  thee  have  early  done  so  much. 


180  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ORESTES 

When  they  ordain  a  man  to  noble  deeds, 

To  shield  from  dire  calamity  his  friends, 

Extend  his  empire,  or  protect  its  bounds, 

Or  put  to  flight  its  ancient  enemies, 

Let  him  be  grateful!     For  to  him  a  god 

Imparts  the  first,  the  sweetest  joy  of  life. 

Me  have  they  doom'd  to  be  a  slaughterer, 

To  be  an  honor 'd  mother's  murderer, 

And  shamefully  a  deed  of  shame  avenging, 

Me  through  their  own  decree  they  have  o'erwhelm'd. 

Trust  me,  the  race  of  Tantalus  is  doom'd; 

And  I,  his  last  descendant,  may  not  perish, 

Or  crown 'd  with  honor  or  unstain'd  by  crime. 

PYLADES 

The  gods  avenge  not  on  the  son  the  deeds 
Done  by  the  father.     Each,  or  good  or  bad, 
Of  his  own  actions  reaps  the  due  reward. 
The  parents'  blessing,  not  their  curse,  descends. 

ORESTES 

Methinks  their  blessing  did  not  lead  us  here. 

PYLADES 
It  was  at  least  the  mighty  gods'  decree. 

ORESTES 

Then  is  it  their  decree  which  doth  destroy  us. 

PYLADES 

Perform  what  they  command,  and  wait  the  event. 
Do  thou  Apollo's  sister  bear  from  hence, 
That  they  at  Delphi  may  united  dwell, 
There  by  a  noble-thoughted  race  revered, 
Thee,  for  this  deed,  the  lofty  pair  will  view 
With  gracious  eye,  and  from  the  hateful  grasp 
Of  the  infernal  Powers  will  rescue  thee. 
E'en  now  none  dares  intrude  within  this  grove. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  181 

OKESTES 

So  shall  I  die  at  least  a  peaceful  death. 

PYLADES 

Far  other  are  my  thoughts,  and  not  unskill'd 
Have  I  the  future  and  the  past  combined 
In  quiet  meditation.     Long,  perchance, 
Hath  ripen  'd  in  the  counsel  of  the  gods 
The  great  event.     Diana  yearns  to  leave 
The  savage  coast  of  these  barbarians, 
Foul  with  their  sacrifice  of  human  blood. 
We  were  selected  for  the  high  emprize; 
To  us  it  is  assign 'd,  and  strangely  thus 
We  are  conducted  to  the  threshold  here. 

ORESTES 

My  friend,  with  wondrous  skill  thou  link'st  thy  wish 
With  the  predestin'd  purpose  of  the  gods. 

PYLADES 

Of  what  avail  is  prudence,  if  it  fail 
Heedful  to  mark  the  purposes  of  Heaven? 
A  noble  man,  who  much  hath  sinn'd,  some  god 
Doth  summon  to  a  dangerous  enterprize, 
Which  to  achieve  appears  impossible. 
The  hero  conquers,  and  atoning  serves 
Mortals  and  gods,  who  thenceforth  honor  him. 

ORESTES 

Am  I  foredoom 'd  to  action  and  to  life, 
Would  that  a  god  from  my  distemper 'd  brain 
Might  chase  this  dizzy  fever,  which  impels 
My  restless  steps  along  a  slipp'ry  path, 
Stain 'd  with  a  mother's  blood,  to  direful  death; 
And  pitying,  dry  the  fountain,  whence  the  blood, 
For  ever  spouting  from  a  mother's  wounds, 
Eternally  defiles  me! 

PYLADES 
Wait  in  peace ! 
Thou  dost  increase  the  evil,  and  dost  take 


182  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

The  office  of  the  Furies  on  thyself. 
Let  me  contrive, —  be  still!     And  when  at  length 
The  time  for  action  claims  our  powers  combin'd, 
Then  will  I  summon  thee,  and  on  we'll  stride, 
With  cautious  boldness  to  achieve  the  event. 

OKESTES 

I  hear  Ulysses  speak. 

PYLADES 

Nay,  mock  me  not. 

Each  must  select  the  hero  after  whom 
To  climb  the  steep  and  difficult  ascent 
Of  high  Olympus.     And  to  me  it  seems 
That  him  nor  stratagem  nor  art  defiles 
Who  consecrates  himself  to  noble  deeds. 

ORESTES 

I  most  esteem  the  brave  and  upright  man. 

PYLADES 

And  therefore  have  I  not  desir'd  thy  counsel. 
One  step's  already  taken.     From  our  guards 
E'en  now  I  this  intelligence  have  gained. 
A  strange  and  godlike  woman  holds  in  check 
The  execution  of  that  bloody  law: 
Incense,  and  prayer,  and  an  unsullied  heart, 
These  are  the  gifts  she  offers  to  the  gods. 
Eumor  extols  her  highly,  it  is  thought 
That  from  the  race  of  Amazon  she  springs, 
And  hither  fled  some  great  calamity. 

ORESTES 

Her  gentle  sway,  it  seems,  lost  all  its  power 
When  hither  came  the  culprit,  whom  the  curse, 
Like  murky  night,  envelops  and  pursues. 
Our  doom  to  seal,  the  pious  thirst  for  blood 
The  ancient  cruel  rite  again  unchains: 
The  monarch's  savage  will  decrees  our  death; 
A  woman  cannot  save  when  he  condemns. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  183 

PYLADES 

That  'tis  a  woman,  is  a  ground  for  hope ! 

A  man,  the  very  best,  with  cruelty 

At  length  may  so  familiarize  his  mind, 

His  character  through  custom  so  transform, 

That  he  shall  come  to  make  himself  a  law 

Of  what  at  first  his  very  soul  abhorr'd. 

But  woman  doth  retain  the  stamp  of  mind 

She  first  assum'd.     On  her  we  may  depend 

In  good  or  evil  with  more  certainty. 

She  comes ;  leave  us  alone.     I  dare  not  tell 

At  once  our  names,  nor  unreserv'd  confide 

Our  fortunes  to  her.     Now  retire  awhile, 

And  ere  she  speaks  with  thee  we'll  meet  again. 

SCENE  II 
IPHIGENIA,  PYLADES 

IPHIGENIA 

Whence  art  thou?     Stranger,  speak!     To  me  thy  bearing 
Stamps  thee  of  Grecian,  not  of  Scythian  race. 

[She  unbinds  his  chains.] 
The  freedom  that  I  give  is  dangerous; 
The  gods  avert  the  doom  that  threatens  you! 

PYLADES 

Delicious  music!  dearly  welcome  tones 
Of  our  own  language  in  a  foreign  land! 
With  joy  my  captive  eye  once  more  beholds 
The  azure  mountains  of  my  native  coast. 
Oh,  let  this  joy  that  I,  too,  am  a  Greek 
Convince  thee,  priestess !     How  I  need  thine  aid, 
A  moment  I  forget,  my  spirit  rapt 
In  contemplation  of  so  fair  a  vision. 
If  fate's  dread  mandate  doth  not  seal  thy  lips, 
From  which  of  our  illustrious  races  say, 
Dost  thou  thy  godlike  origin  derive? 


184  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

The  priestess  whom  the  goddess  hath  herself 
Selected  and  ordained,  doth  speak  with  thee. 
Let  that  suffice:  but  tell  me,  who  art  thou, 
And  what  unbless'd  o'erruling  destiny 
Hath  hither  led  thee  with  thy  friend? 

PYLADES 

The  woe, 

Whose  hateful  presence  ever  dogs  our  steps, 
I  can  with  ease  relate.     Oh,  would  that  thou 
Couldst  with  like  ease,  divine  one,  shed  on  us 
One  ray  of  cheering  hope!     We  are  from  Crete, 
Adrastus'  sons,  and  I,  the  youngest  born, 
Named  Cephalus;  my  eldest  brother,  he, 
Laodamas.     Between  us  stood  a  youth 
Savage  and  wild,  who  severed  e'en  in  sport 
The  joy  and  concord  of  our  early  youth. 
Long  as  our  father  led  his  powers  at  Troy, 
Passive  our  mother's  mandate  we  obey'd; 
But  when,  enrich 'd  with  booty,  he  return 'd, 
And  shortly  after  died,  a  contest  fierce 
Both  for  the  kingdom  and  their  father's  wealth, 
His  children  parted.     I  the  eldest  joined; 
He  slew  our  brother;  and  the  Furies  hence 
For  kindred  murder  dog  his  restless  steps. 
But  to  this  savage  shore  the  Delphian  god 
Hath  sent  us,  cheer 'd  by  hope.     He  bade  us  wait 
Within  his  sister's  consecrated  fane 
The  blessed  hand  of  aid.     Captives  we  are, 
And,  hither  brought,  before  thee  now  we  stand 
Ordain 'd  for  sacrifice.     My  tale  is  told. 

IPHIGENIA 

Fell  Troy!     Dear  man,  assure  me  of  its  fall. 

PYLADES 

Prostrate  it  lies.     O  unto  us  ensure 
Deliverance.    The  promised  aid  of  Heaven 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  185 

More  swiftly  bring.     Take  pity  on  my  brother. 

0  say  to  him  a  kind,  a  gracious  word; 

But  spare  him  when  thou  speakest,  earnestly 

This  I  implore:  for  all  too  easily 

Through  joy  and  sorrow  and  through  memory 

Torn  and  distracted  is  his  inmost  being. 

A  feverish  madness  oft  doth  seize  on  him, 

Yielding  his  spirit,  beautiful  and  free, 

A  prey  to  furies. 

IPHIGENIA 

Great  as  is  thy  woe, 
Forget  it,  I  conjure  thee,  for  a  while, 
Till  I  am  satisfied. 

PYLADES 

The  stately  town, 

Which  ten  long  years  withstood  the  Grecian  host, 
Now  lies  in  ruins,  ne'er  to  rise  again; 
Yet  many  a  hero's  grave  will  oft  recall 
Our  sad  remembrance  to  that  barbarous  shore. 
There  lies  Achilles  and  his  noble  friend. 

IPHIGENIA 
So  are  ye  godlike  forms  reduc'd  to  dust! 

PYLADES 

Nor  Palamede,  nor  Ajax,  ere  again 
The  daylight  of  their  native  land  beheld. 

IPHIGENIA 

He  speaks  not  of  my  father,  doth  not  name 
Him  with  the  fallen.     He  may  yet  survive  I 

1  may  behold  him!  still  hope  on,  fond  heart! 

PYLADES 

Yet  happy  are  the  thousands  who  receiv'd 
Their  bitter  death-blow  from  a  hostile  hand! 
For  terror  wild,  and  end  most  tragical, 


186  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Some  hostile,  angry  deity  prepared, 

Instead  of  triumph,  for  the  home-returning. 

Do  human  voices  never  reach  this  shore? 

Far  as  their  sound  extends,  they  bear  the  fame 

Of  deeds  unparallel'd.     And  is  the  woe 

Which  fills  Mycene's  halls  with  ceaseless  sighs 

To  thee  a  secret  still? — And  know'st  thou  not 

That  Clytemnestra,  with  JEgisthus'  aid, 

Her  royal  consort  artfully  ensnar'd, 

And  murder 'd  on  the  day  of  his  return?  — 

The  monarch's  house  thou  honorest!    I  perceive 

Thy  breast  with  tidings  vainly  doth  contend 

Fraught  with  such  monstrous  and  unlock 'd  for  woe. 

Art  thou  the  daughter  of  a  friend?  art  born 

Within  the  circuit  of  Mycene's  walls? 

Conceal  it  not,  nor  call  me  to  account 

That  here  the  horrid  crime  I  first  announce. 

JPHIGENIA 
Proceed,  and  tell  me  how  the  deed  was  done. 

PYLADES 

The  day  of  his  return,  as  from  the  bafh 
Arose  the  monarch,  tranquil  and  refresh 'd, 
His  robe  demanding  from  his  consort's  hand, 
A  tangled  garment,  complicate  with  folds, 
She  o  'er  his  shoulders  flung  and  noble  head ; 
And  when,  as  from  a  net,  he  vainly  strove 
To  extricate  himself,  the  traitor,  base 
^Egisthus,  smote  him,  and  envelop 'd  thus 
Great  Agamemnon  sought  the  shades  below. 

IPHIGENIA 
And  what  reward  receiv'd  the  base  accomplice? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUBIS  187 

PYLADES 

A  queen  and  kingdom  he  possess 'd  already. 

IPHIGENIA 

Base  passion  prompted  then  the  deed  of  shame  t 

PYLADES 

And  feelings,  cherish 'd  long,  of  deep  revenge. 

IPHIGENIA 
How  had  the  monarch  injured  Clytemnestraf 

PYLADES 

By  such  a  dreadful  deed,  that  if  on  earth 

Aught  could  exculpate  murder,  it  were  this. 

To  Aulis  he  allur'd  her,  when  the  fleet 

With  unpropitious  winds  the  goddess  stay'd; 

And  there,  a  victim  at  Diana's  shrine, 

The  monarch,  for  the  welfare  of  the  Greeks, 

Her  eldest  daughter  doomed,  Iphigenia. 

And  this,  so  rumor  saith,  within  her  heart 

Planted  such  deep  abhorrence  that  forthwith 

She  to  ^Egisthus  hath  resigned  herself, 

And  round  her  husband  flung  the  web  of  death. 

IPHIGENIA  (veiling  herself) 
It  is  enough!     Thou  wilt  again  behold  me. 

PYLADES  (alone) 

The  fortune  of  this  royal  house,  it  seems, 

Doth  move  her  deeply.     Whosoe'er  she  be, 

She  must  herself  have  known  the  monarch  well;  — 

For  our  good  fortune,  from  a  noble  house, 

She  hath  been  sold  to  bondage.     Peace,  my  heart ! 

And  let  us  steer  our  course  with  prudent  zeal 

Toward  the  star  of  hope  which  gleams  upon  us. 


188  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 


IPHIGENIA 

Unhappy  man,  I  only  loose  thy  bonds 

In  token  of  a  still  severer  doom. 

The  freedom  which  the  sanctuary  imparts, 

Like  the  last  life-gleam  o'er  the  dying  face, 

But  heralds  death.     I  cannot,  dare  not,  say 

Your  doom  is  hopeless ;  for,  with  murderous  hand, 

Could  I  inflict  the  fatal  blow  myself? 

And  while  I  here  am  priestess  of  Diana, 

None,  be  he  who  he  may,  dare  touch  your  heads. 

But  the  incensed  king,  should  I  refuse 

Compliance  with  the  rites  himself  enjoin 'd, 

Will  choose  another  virgin  from  my  train 

As  my  successor.     Then,  alas!  with  naught, 

Save  ardent  wishes,  can  I  succor  you. 

Much  honored  countrymen!     The  humblest  slave, 

Who  had  but  near'd  our  sacred  household  hearth, 

Is  dearly  welcome  in  a  foreign  land; 

How  with  proportion 'd  joy  and  blessing,  then, 

Shall  I  receive  the  man  who  doth  recall 

The  image  of  the  heroes,  whom  I  learn 'd 

To  honor  from  my  parents,  and  who  cheers 

My  inmost  heart  with  flatt'ring  gleams  of  hope! 

ORESTES 

Does  prudent  forethought  prompt  thee  to  conceal 
Thy  name  and  race  ?  or  may  I  hope  to  know 
Who,  like  a  heavenly  vision,  meets  me  thus? 

IPHIGENIA 

Yes,  thou  shalt  know  me.     Now  conclude  the  tale 
Of  which  thy  brother  only  told  me  half : 
Eelate  their  end,  who  coming  home  from  Troy, 
On  their  own  threshold  met  a  doom  severe 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  189 

And  most  unlock 'd  for.     Young  I  was  in  sooth 
When  first  conducted  to  this  foreign  shore, 
Yet  well  I  recollect  the  timid  glance 
Of  wonder  and  amazement  which  I  cast 
On  those  heroic  forms.     When  they  went  forth 
It  seem'd  as  though  Olympus  had  sent  down 
The  glorious  figures  of  a  bygone  world, 
To  frighten  Ilion;  and  above  them  all, 
Great  Agamemnon  tower 'd  preeminent! 
Oh,  tell  me !     Fell  the  hero  in  his  home, 
Through  Clytemnestra 's  and  ^Egisthus'  wiles! 

OBESTES 
He  fell! 

IPHIGENIA 

Unblest  Mycene!     Thus  the  sons 
Of  Tantalus,  with  barbarous  hands,  have  sown 
Curse  upon  curse;  and,  as  the  shaken  weed 
Scatters  around  a  thousand  poison-seeds, 
So  they  assassins  ceaseless  generate, 
Their  children's  children  ruthless  to  destroy. — 
Now  tell  the  remnant  of  thy  brother's  tale, 
Which  horror  darkly  hid  from  me  before. 
How  did  the  last  descendant  of  the  race, — 
The  gentle  child,  to  whom  the  Gods  assign 'd 
The  office  of  avenger, —  how  did  he 
Escape  that  day  of  blood?     Did  equal  fate 
Around  Orestes  throw  Avernus'  net! 
Say,  was  he  saved?  and  is  he  still  alive? 
And  lives  Electra,  too? 

OBESTES 

They  both  survive. 

IPHIGENIA 

Golden  Apollo,  lend  thy  choicest  beams! 
Lay  them  an  offering  at  the  throne  of  Jove  I 
For  I  am  poor  and  dumb. 


190  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ORESTES 

If  social  bonds 

Or  ties  more  close  connect  thee  with  this  house, 
As  this  thy  rapturous  joy  betrayeth  to  me, 
O  then  rein  in  thy  heart  and  hold  it  fast! 
For  insupportable  the  sudden  plunge 
From  happiness  to  sorrow's  gloomy  depth. 
Thou  knowest  only  Agamemnon's  death. 

IPHIGENIA 
And  is  not  this  intelligence  enough? 

OKESTES 

Half  of  the  horror  only  hast  thou  heard. 

IPHIGENIA 

What  should  I  fear  I  Orestes,  Electra  lives. 

OKESTES 

And  fearest  thou  for  Clytemnestra  naught? 

IPHIGENIA 
Her,  neither  hope  nor  fear  have  power  to  save. 

ORESTES 

She  to  the  land  of  hope  hath  bid  farewell. 

IPHIGENIA 
Did  her  repentant  hand  shed  her  own  blood? 

ORESTES 

Not  so;  yet  her  own  blood  inflicted  death. 

IPHIGENIA 

More  plainly  speak,  nor  leave  me  in  suspense. 
Uncertainty  around  my  anxious  head 
Her  dusky,  thousand-folded  pinion  waves. 

ORESTES 

Have  then  the  powers  above  selected  me 
To  be  the  herald  of  a  dreadful  deed, 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  191 

Which  in  the  drear  and  soundless  realms  of  night 
I  fain  would  hide  for  ever?     'Gainst  my  will 
Thy  gentle  voice  constrains  me;  it  demands, 
And  shall  receive,  a  tale  of  direst  woe. 
Electra,  on  the  day  when  fell  her  sire, 
Her  brother  from  impending  doom  conceal 'd; 
Him  Strophius,  his  father's  relative, 
Receiv'd  with  kindest  care,  and  rear'd  him  up 
With  his  own  son,  named  Pylades,  who  soon 
Around  the  stranger  twin'd  love's  fairest  bonds. 
And  as  they  grew,  within  their  inmost  souls 
There  sprang  the  burning  longing  to  revenge 
The  monarch's  death.     Unlook'd  for,  and  disguis'd, 
They  reach  Mycene,  feigning  to  have  brought 
The  mournful  tidings  of  Orestes'  death, 
Together  with  his  ashes.     Them  the  queen 
Gladly  receives.     Within  the  house  they  enter; 
Orestes  to  Electra  shows  himself: 
She  fans  the  fires  of  vengeance  into  flame, 
Which  in  the  sacred  presence  of  a  mother 
Had  burn'd  more  dimly.     Silently  she  leads 
Her  brother  to  the  spot  where  fell  their  sire ; 
Where  lurid  blood-marks,  on  the  oft-wash'd  floor, 
With  pallid  streaks,  anticipate  revenge. 
With  fiery  eloquence  she  pictured  forth 
Each  circumstance  of  that  atrocious  deed, — 
Her  own  oppress 'd  and  miserable  life, 
The  prosperous  traitor's  insolent  demeanor, 
The  perils  threat'ning  Agamemnon's  race 
From  her  who  had  become  their  stepmother. — 
Then  in  his  hand  the  ancient  dagger  thrust, 
Which  often  in  the  house  of  Tantalus 
With  savage  fury  rag'd, —  and  by  her  sqn 
Was  Clytemnestra  slain. 

IPHIGENIA 
Immortal  powers! 
Whose  pure  and  blest  existence  glides  away 


192  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

'Mid  ever  shifting  clouds,  me  have  ye  kept 
So  many  years  secluded  from  the  world, 
Retain 'd  me  near  yourselves,  consign 'd  to  me 
The  childlike  task  to  feed  the  sacred  fire, 
And  taught  my  spirit,  like  the  hallow 'd  flame, 
With  never-clouded  brightness  to  aspire 
To  your  pure  mansions, —  but  at  length  to  feel 
With  keener  woe  the  horror  of  my  house! 
0  tell  me  of  the  poor  unfortunate ! 
Speak  of  Orestes ! 

ORESTES 

0  could  I  speak  to  tell  thee  of  his  death! 

Forth  from  the  slain  one's  spouting  blood  arose 

His  mother's  ghost; 

And  to  the  ancient  daughters  of  the  night 

Cries, — "  Let  him  not  escape, —  the  matricide! 

Pursue  the  victim,  dedicate  to  you!  " 

They  hear,  and  glare  around  with  hollow  eyes, 

Like  greedy  eagles.     In  their  murky  dens 

They  stir  themselves,  and  from  the  corners  creep 

Their  comrades,  dire  Remorse  and  pallid  Fear; 

Before  them  fumes  a  mist  of  Acheron; 

Perplexingly  around  the  murderer's  brow 

The  eternal  contemplation  of  the  past 

Rolls  in  its  cloudy  circles.     Once  again 

The  grisly  band,  commission 'd  to  destroy, 

Pollute  earth's  beautiful  and  heaven-sown  fields, 

.From  which  an  ancient  curse  had  banish 'd  them. 

Their  rapid  feet  the  fugitive  pursue; 

They  only  pause  to  start  a  wilder  fear. 

IPHIGENIA 

Unhappy  one;  thy  lot  resembles  his, 

Thou  feel'st  what  he,  poor  fugitive,  must  suffer. 

ORESTES 

What  say'st  thou?  why  presume  my  fate  like  his? 


EPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  193 

IPHIGENIA 

A  brother's  murder  weighs  upon  thy  soul; 
Thy  younger  brother  told  the  mournful  tale. 

ORESTES 

I  cannot  suffer  that  thy  noble  soul 

Should  by  a  word  of  falsehood  be  deceived. 

In  cunning  rich  and  practised  in  deceit 

A  web  ensnaring  let  the  stranger  weave 

To  snare  the  stranger's  feet;  between  us  twain 

Be  truth! 

I  am  Orestes !  and  this  guilty  head 

Is  stooping  to  the  tomb,  and  covets  death; 

It  will  be  welcome  now  in  any  shape. 

Whoe  'er  thou  art,  for  thee  and  for  my  friend 

I  wish  deliverance  —  /  desire  it  not. 

Thou  seem'st  to  linger  here  against  thy  will; 

Contrive  some  means  of  flight,  and  leave  me  here: 

My  lifeless  corpse  hurl'd  headlong  from  the  rock, 

My  blood  shall  mingle  with  the  dashing  waves, 

And  bring  a  curse  upon  this  barbarous  shore! 

Return  together  home  to  lovely  Greece, 

With  joy  a  new  existence  to  commence. 

[ORESTES  retires.] 
IPHIGENIA 

At  length  Fulfilment,  fairest  child  of  Jove, 
Thou  dost  descend  upon  me  from  on  high! 
How  vast  thine  image!     Scarce  my  straining  eye 
Can  reach  thy  hands,  which,  fill'd  with  golden  fruit 
And  wreaths  of  blessing,  from  Olympus'  height 
Shower  treasures  down.     As  by  his  bounteous  gifts 
We  recognize  the  monarch  (for  what  seems 
To  thousands  opulence,  is  naught  to  him), 
So  you,  ye  heavenly  Powers,  are  also  known 
By  bounty  long  withheld,  and  wisely  plannM. 
Ye  only  know  what  things  are  good  for  us; 
Ye  view  the  future's  wide-extended  realm, 
While  from  our  eye  a  dim  or  starry  veil 

VOL.  1—13 


194  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

The  prospect  shrouds.     Calmly  ye  hear  our  prayers, 

When  we  like  children  sue  for  greater  speed. 

Not  immature  ye  pluck  heaven's  golden  fruit; 

And  woe  to  him,  who  with  impatient  hand, 

His  date  of  joy  forestalling,  gathers  death. 

Let  not  this  long-awaited  happiness, 

Which  yet  my  heart  hath  scarcely  realiz'd, 

Like  to  the  shadow  of  departed  friends, 

Glide  vainly  by  with  triple  sorrow  fraught! 

ORESTES  (returning) 
Dost  thou  for  Pylades  and  for  thyself 
Implore  the  gods,  blend  not  my  name  with  yours ; 
Thou  wilt  not  save  the  wretch  whom  thou  wouldst  join, 
But  will  participate  his  curse  and  woe. 

IPHIGENIA 

My  destiny  is  firmly  bound  to  thine. 

ORESTES 

No ;  say  not  so :  alone  and  unattended 

Let  me  descend  to  Hades.     Though  thou  shouldst 

In  thine  own  veil  enwrap  the  guilty  one, 

Thou  couldst  not  shroud  him  from  his  wakeful  foes: 

And  e'en  thy  sacred  presence,  heavenly  maid, 

But  driveth  them  aside  and  scares  them  not. 

With  brazen,  impious  feet  they  dare  not  tread 

Within  the  precincts  of  this  sacred  grove : 

Yet  in  the  distance,  ever  and  anon, 

I  hear  their  horrid  laughter,  like  the  howl 

Of  famish 'd  wolves,  beneath  the  tree  wherein 

The  traveler  hides.     Without,  encamp 'd  they  lie, 

And  should  I  quit  this  consecrated  grove, 

Shaking  their  serpent  locks,  they  would  arise, 

And,  raising  clouds  of  dust  on  every  side, 

Ceaseless  pursue  their  miserable  prey. 

IPHIGENIA 

Orestes,  canst  thou  hear  a  friendly  word! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  195 

OEESTES 

Beserve  it  for  one  favor 'd  by  the  gods. 

IPHIGENIA 

To  thee  they  give  anew  the  light  of  hope. 

OKESTES 

Through  clouds  and  smoke  I  see  the  feeble  gleam 
Of  the  death-stream  which  lights  me  down  to  hell. 

IPHIGENIA 
Hast  thou  one  sister  only,  thy  Electra! 

ORESTES 

I  knew  but  one :  yet  her  kind  destiny, 
Which  seemed  to  us  so  terrible,  betimes 
Removed  an  elder  sister  from  the  woe 
Which  o  'er  the  house  of  Pelops  aye  impends. 

0  cease  thy  questions,  nor  thus  league  thyself 
With  the  Erinnys;  still  they  blow  away, 
With  fiendish  joy,  the  ashes  from  my  soul, 
Lest  the  last  embers  of  the  fiery  brand 

The  fatal  heritage  of  Pelops'  house, 

Should  there  be  quenched.     Must  then  the  fire  for  aye, 

Deliberately  kindled  and  supplied 

With  hellish  sulphur,  sear  my  tortured  soul  I 

IPHIGENIA 

1  scatter  fragrant  incense  in  the  flame. 
0  let  the  pure,  the  gentle  breath  of  love, 
Low  murmuring,  cool  thy  bosom's  fiery  glow. 
Orestes,  fondly  lov'd, —  canst  thou  not  hear  me? 
Hath  the  terrific  Furies'  grisly  band 

Dried  up  the  blood  of  life  within  thy  veins  ? 
Creeps  there,  as  from  the  Gorgon's  direful  head, 
A  petrifying  charm  through  all  thy  limbs? 
With  hollow  accents  from  a  mother's  blood, 
If  voices  call  thee  to  the  shades  below, 
May  not  a  sister's  word  with  blessing  rife 
Call  from  Olympus'  height  help-rendering  gods? 

I 


196  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ORESTES 

She  calls!  she  calls!  —  Dost  thou  desire  my  doom? 
Is  there  a  Fury  shrouded  in  thy  form? 
Who  art  thou,  that  thy  voice  thus  horribly 
Can  harrow  up  my  bosom's  inmost  depths? 

IPHIGENIA 

Thine  inmost  heart  reveals  it.     I  am  she, — 
Iphigenia, —  look  on  me,  Orestes! 

ORESTES 

Thou! 

IPHIGENIA 

My  own  brother! 

ORESTES 

Hence,  away,  begone! 
I  counsel  thee,  touch  not  these  fatal  locks ! 
As  from  Creusa's  bridal  robe,  from  me 
An  inextinguishable  fire  is  kindled. 
Leave  me!     Like  Hercules,  a  death  of  shame, 
Unworthy  wretch,  locked  in  myself,  I'll  die! 

IPHIGENIA 

Thou  shalt  not  perish !     Would  that  I  might  hear 
One  quiet  word  from  thee !  dispel  my  doubts, 
Make  sure  the  bliss  I  have  implored  so  long. 
A  wheel  of  joy  and  sorrow  in  my  heart, 
Ceaseless  revolves.     I  from  a  man  unknown 
With  horror  turn;  but  with  resistless  might 
My  inmost  heart  impels  me  to  my  brother. 

ORESTES 

Is  this  Lyaeus'  temple?     Doth  the  glow 
Of  holy  rage  unbridled  thus  possess 
The  sacred  priestess? 

IPHIGENIA 

Hear  me,  oh,  look  up  I 
See  how  my  heart,  which  hath  been  closed  so  long 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  197 

Doth  open  to  the  bliss  of  seeing  thee, 
The  dearest  treasure  that  the  world  contains, — 
Of  falling  on  thy  neck,  and  folding  thee 
Within  my  longing  arms,  which  have  till  now 
Met  the  embraces  of  the  empty  wind. 
Do  not  repulse  me, —  the  eternal  spring, 
Whose  crystal  waters  from  Parnassus  flow, 
Bounds  not  more  gaily  on  from  rock  to  rock. 
Down  to  the  golden  vale,  than  from  my  heart 
The  waters  of  affection  freely  gush, 
And  round  me  form  a  circling  sea  of  bliss. 
Orestes!     0  my  brother! 

OKESTES 

Lovely  nymph! 

Nor  thy  caresses,  nor  thyself  I  trust; 
Diana  claims  attendants  more  severe, 
And  doth  avenge  her  desecrated  fane. 
Remove  thy  circling  arm!     Wilt  thou  indeed 
Safety  and  love  upon  a  youth  bestow, 
And  fondly  tender  him  earth's  fairest  joy! 
Unto  my  friend,  more  worthy  than  myself, 
Impart  thy  favors;  'mong  yon  rocks  he  roves. 
Go,  seek  him ;  guide  him  hence,  and  heed  not  me. 

IPHIGENIA 

Brother,  command  thyself,  and  better  know 
Thy  sister,  newly  found!     Misconstrue  not 
Her  pure  and  heavenly  rapture,  blaming  it 
As  lustful  heat  unbridled.     0  ye  gods, 
Remove  delusion  from  his  rigid  gaze, 
Lest  that  this  moment,  fraught  with  bliss  supreme, 
Should  make  us  trebly  wretched !     She  is  here, 
Thine  own,  thy  long-lost  sister!     From  the  altar 
The  goddess  rescued  me,  and  placed  me  here, 
Secure  within  her  consecrated  fane  — 
A  captive  thou,  prepared  for  sacrifice, 
And  findest  here  a  sister  in  the  priestess. 


198  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

OEESTES 

Unblessed  one!     So  may  the  radiant  sun 

The  final  horror  of  our  house  behold! 

Is  not  Electra  here?     That  she  with  us 

May  also  perish,  nor  her  life  prolong 

For  heavier  destiny  and  direr  woe. 

'Tis  well, —  I  follow,  priestess!     Fratricide 

Is  an  old  custom  of  our  ancient  house; 

And  you,  ye  gods,  I  thank,  that  ye  resolve 

Childless  to  root  me  hence.     Thee  let  me  counsel 

To  view  too  fondly  neither  sun  nor  stars. 

Come,  follow  to  the  gloomy  realms  below  I 

As  dragons,  gender 'd  in  the  sulphur  pool, 

Swallow  each  other  with  voracious  rage, 

So  our  accursed  race  destroys  itself. 

Childless  and  guiltless  come  below  with  me! 

There's  pity  in  thy  look!  oh,  gaze  not  so, — 

'Twas  with  such  looks  that  Clytemnestra  sought 

An  entrance  to  her  son  Orestes'  heart, 

And  yet  his  uprais'd  arm  her  bosom  pierc'd. 

His  mother  fell!  —  Appear,  indignant  shade! 

Within  the  circle  step,  ye  fiends  of  hell, 

Be  present  at  the  welcome  spectacle, 

The  last,  most  horrible  that  ye  prepare! 

Nor  hate,  nor  vengeance  whets  the  poniard  now; 

A  loving  sister  is  constrain 'd  to  deal 

The  fatal  blow.     Weep  not!     Thou  hast  no  guilt. 

From  earliest  infancy  I  naught  have  lov'd, 

As  thee  I  could  have  lov'd,  my  sister.     Come, 

The  weapon  raise,  spare  not,  this  bosom  rend, 

And  make  an  outlet  for  its  boiling  streams ! 

[He  sinks  exhausted.] 

IPHIGENIA 

Alone  I  cannot  bear  this  bliss  and  woe. 
Where  art  thou,  Pyladesf     Thine  aid  I  need. 

[IPHIGENIA  retires.] 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  199 

SCENE  n 
OBESTES  (recovering  from  his  swoon  and  standing  up) 

Give  yet  another!  reach  from  Lethe's  stream 

The  last  reviving  draught  of  cool  refreshment! 

Soon  shall  its  waters  in  my  bosom  still 

Life's  fitful  fever;  and  my  spirit  then 

Adown  oblivion's  stream  shall  glide  to  you, 

Ye  spirits  shrouded  in  eternal  mist. 

With  tranquil  pleasure  in  your  deep  repose 

A  weary  son  of  earth  may  lave  his  soul !  — 

What  whisp'ring  sounds  pervade  the  dreary  grove  ? 

What  hollow  murmurs  haunt  its  twilight  gloom!  — 

They  gather  round  to  view  the  stranger  guest! 

Who  are  yon  troop  in  high  communion  met, 

Like  an  assembled  family  of  princes? 

They  mingle  peacefully,  of  every  age, 

Of  either  sex:  godlike,  of  kindred  mould, 

Appear  the  gliding  figures.     Yes,  'tis  they, 

The  fathers  of  my  race !     With  Atreus, 

In  friendly  converse  glides  Thyestes'  shade, 

And  children  playfully  around  them  sport. 

Is  there  no  enmity  among  you  now? 

And  is  revenge  extinguish 'd  with  the  sun? 

So  am  I  also  welcome,  and  may  hope 

To  mingle  in  your  solemn  company. 

Welcome,  my  sires !     Orestes  bids  you  hail ! 

The  seed  that  ye  have  sow'd,  that  hath  he  reap'd. 

Laden  with  curses  he  descends  to  you. 

But  burdens  here  are  lighter  far  to  bear. 

Receive  him,  oh,  receive  him  in  your  circle ! 

Thee,  Atreus,  I  revere,  and  thee,  Thyestes: 

Here  all  are  free  from  enmity  and  hate. — 

Show  me  my  father,  whom  I  only  once 

In  life  beheld. —  Art  thou  my  father,  thou, 

My  mother  leading  thus  familiarly? 

Dares  Clytemnestra  reach  her  hand  to  thee? 


200  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Then  may  Orestes  also  draw  near  her, 

And  say,  Behold  thy  son! — My  ancestors, 

Behold  your  son,  and  bid  him  welcome  here. 

Among  the  sons  of  ancient  Tantalus, 

A  kind  salute  on  earth  was  murder's  watchword, 

And  all  their  joys  commence  beyond  the  grave. 

Ye  welcome  me !     Ye  bid  me  join  your  circle  I 

Oh,  lead  me  to  my  honor  'd  ancestor ! 

Where  is  our  aged  sire?     Let  me  behold 

The  dear,  the  venerable  head  of  him 

Who  with  the  immortal  gods  in  council  sat. 

Ye  seem  to  shudder  and  to  turn  away! 

What  may  this  mean?     Suffers  the  godlike  manT 

Alas!  the  mighty  gods,  with  ruthless  hate, 

To  his  heroic  breast,  with  brazen  chains, 

Have  cruel  pangs  indissolubly  bound. 

SCENE  III 
ORESTES,  IPHIGENIA,  PYLADES 

ORESTES 

How !     Are  ye  come  already  here  below  ? 
Welcome,  my  sister!     Still  Electra  fails; 
O  that  some  kindly  god,  with  gentle  arrow, 
Her  too,  full  speedily,  would  downward  send! 
Thee,  hapless  friend,  I  must  compassionate! 
Come  with  me !     Come !    To  Pluto 's  gloomy  throne, 
There  to  salute  our  hosts  like  stranger  guests. 

IPHIGENIA 

Celestial  pair,  who  from  the  realms  above 
By  night  and  day  shed  down  the  beauteous  light 
To  cheer  mankind,  but  who  may  not  illume 
Departed  spirits,  save  a  mortal  pair! 
A  brother's  and  a  sister's  anguish  pity! 
For  thou,  Diana,  lov'st  thy  gentle  brother 
Beyond  what  earth  and  heaven  can  offer  thee; 
And  dost,  with  quiet  yearning,  ever  turn 
Thy  virgin  face  to  his  eternal  light. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  201 

Let  not  my  only  brother,  found  so  late, 

Rave  in  the  darkness  of  insanity! 

And  is  thy  will,  when  thou  didst  here  conceal  me, 

At  length  fulfill 'd, —  wouldst  thou  to  me  through  him 

To  him  through  me,  thy  gracious  aid  extend, — 

Oh,  free  him  from  the  fetters  of  this  curse, 

Lest  vainly  pass  the  precious  hours  of  safety. 

PYLADES 

Dost  thou  not  know  us,  and  this  sacred  grove, 
And  this  blest  light,  which  shines  not  on  the  dead? 
Dost  thou  not  feel  thy  sister  and  thy  friend, 
Who  hold  thee  living  in  their  firm  embrace? 
Us  firmly  grasp;  we  are  not  empty  shades. 
Mark  well  my  words !     Collect  thy  scatter  'd  thoughts ! 
Attend!     Each  moment  is  of  priceless  worth, 
And  our  return  hangs  on  a  slender  thread, 
Which,  as  it  seems,  some  gracious  fate  doth  spin, 

OEBSTES  (to  IPHIGENIA) 
My  sister,  let  me  for  the  first  time  taste, 
With  open  heartj  pure  joy  within  thine  arms ! 
Ye  gods,  who  charge  the  heavy  clouds  with  dread, 
And  sternly  gracious  send  the  long-sought  rain 
With  thunder  and  the  rush  of  mighty  winds, 
A  horrid  deluge  on  the  trembling  earth; 
Yet  dissipate  at  length  man's  dread  suspense, 
Exchanging  timid  wonder's  anxious  gaze 
For  grateful  looks  and  joyous  songs  of  praise, 
When  in  each  sparkling  drop  which  gems  the  leaves, 
Apollo,  thousand-fold,  reflects  his  beam, 
And  Iris  colors  with  a  magic  hand 
The  dusty  texture  of  the  parting  clouds ; 
Oh,  let  me  also  in  my  sister's  arms, 
And  on  the  bosom  of  my  friend,  enjoy 
With  grateful  thanks  the  bliss  ye  now  bestow; 
My  heart  assures  me  that  your  curses  cease. 
The  dread  Eumenides  at  length  retire, 
The  brazen  gates  of  Tartarus  I  hear 


202  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Behind  them  closing  with  a  thunderous  clang. 
A  quick 'ning  odor  from  the  earth  ascends, 
Inviting  me  to  chase,  upon  its  plains, 
The  joys  of  life  and  deeds  of  high  emprize. 

PYLADES 

Lose  not  the  moments  which  are  limited ! 
The  favoring  gale,  which  swells  our  parting  sail, 
Must  to  Olympus  waft  our  perfect  joy. 
Quick  counsel  and  resolve  the  time  demands. 

ACT  IV 

SCENE  I 

IPHIGENIA 

When  the  Powers  on  high  decree 

For  a  feeble  child  of  earth 

Dire  perplexity  and  woe, 

And  his  spirit  doom  to  pass 

With  tumult  wild  from  joy  to  grief, 

And  back  again  from  grief  to  joy, 

In  fearful  alternation; 

They  in  mercy  then  provide, 

In  the  precincts  of  his  home, 

Or  upon  the  distant  shore, 

That  to  him  may  never  fail 

Keady  help  in  hours  of  need, 

A  tranquil,  faithful  friend. 

Oh,  bless,  ye  heavenly  powers,  our  Pylades, 

And  whatsoever  he  may  undertake! 

He  is  in  fight  the  vigorous  arm  of  youth, 

And  his  the  thoughtful  eye  of  age  in  counsel; 

For  tranquil  is  his  soul;  he  guardeth  there 

Of  calm  a  sacred  and  exhaustless  dower, 

And  from  its  depths,  in  rich  supply,  outpours 

Comfort  and  counsel  for  the  sore  distressed. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  203 

He  tore  me  from  my  brother,  upon  whom, 

With  fond  amaze,  I  gaz  'd  and  gaz  'd  again ; 

I  could  not  realize  my  happiness, 

Nor  loose  him  from  my  arms,  and  heeded  not 

The  danger's  near  approach  that  threatens  us. 

To  execute  their  project  of  escape, 

They  hasten  to  the  sea,  where  in  a  bay 

Their  comrades  in  the  vessel  lie  conceal  'd 

Waiting  a  signal.     Me  they  have  supplied 

With  artful  answers,  should  the  monarch  send 

To  urge  the  sacrifice.     Alas!  I  see 

I  must  consent  to  follow  like  a  child, 

I  have  not  learn  'd  deception,  nor  the  art 

To  gain  with  crafty  wiles  my  purposes. 

Detested  falsehood!  it  doth  not  relieve 

The  breast  like  words  of  truth :  it  comforts  not, 

But  is  a  torment  in  the  forger's  heart, 

And,  like  an  arrow  which  a  god  directs, 

Flies  back  and  wounds  the  archer.    Through  my  heart 

One  fear  doth  chase  another;  perhaps  with  rage, 

Again  on  the  unconsecrated  shore, 

The  Furies'  grisly  band  my  brother  seize. 

Perchance  they  are  surpris'd!     Methinks,  I  hear 

The  tread  of  armed  men.     A  messenger 

Is  coming  from  the  king,  with  hasty  steps. 

How  throbs  my  heart,  how  troubled  is  my  soul, 

Now  that  I  gaze  upon  the  face  of  one, 

Whom  with  a  word  untrue  I  must  encounter  I 


SCENE   II 
IPHIGENIA,  AEKAS 

ARKAS 

Priestess,  with  speed  conclude  the  sacrifice! 
Impatiently  the  king  and  people  wait. 


204  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

I  had  perform 'd  my  duty  and  thy  will, 
Had  not  an  unforeseen  impediment 
The  execution  of  my  purpose  thwarted. 

ARKAS 

What  is  it  that  obstructs  the  king's  commands? 

IPHIGENIA 

Chance,  which  from  mortals  will  not  brook  control. 

ARKAS 

Possess  me  with  the  reason,  that  with  speed 
I  may  inform  the  king,  who  hath  decreed 
The  death  of  both. 

IPHIGENIA 

The  gods  have  not  decreed  it. 
The  elder  of  these  men  doth  bear  the  guilt 
Of  kindred  murder ;  on  his  steps  attend 
The  dread  Erinnys.    In  the  inner  fane 
They  seized  upon  their  prey,  polluting  thus 
The  holy  sanctuary.    I  hasten  now, 
Together  with  my  virgin-train,  to  bathe 
The  goddess'  image  in  the  sea,  and  there 
With  solemn  rites  its  purity  restore. 
Let  none  presume  our  silent  march  to  follow! 

ARKAS 

This  hindrance  to  the  monarch  I'll  announce: 
Commence  not  thou  the  rite  till  he  permit. 

IPHIGENIA 
The  priestess  interferes  alone  in  this. 

ARKAS 
An  incident  so  strange  the  king  should  know. 

IPHIGENIA 

Here,  nor  his  counsel  nor  command  avails. 

ARKAS 
Oft  are  the  great  consulted  out  of  form. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  205 

IPHIGENIA 

Do  not  insist  on  what  I  must  refuse. 

ARKAS 

A  needful  and  a  just  demand  refuse  not. 

IPHIGENIA 

I  yield,  if  thou  delay  not. 

ARKAS 

I  with  speed 

Will  bear  these  tidings  to  the  camp,  and  soon 
Acquaint  thee,  priestess,  with  the  king's  reply. 
There  is  a  message  I  would  gladly  bear  him ; 
'Twould  quickly  banish  all  perplexity: 
Thou  didst  not  heed  thy  faithful  friend's  advice. 

IPHIGENIA 
I  willingly  have  done  whate'er  I  could. 

ARKAS 

E'en  now  'tis  not  too  late  to  change  thy  purpose. 

IPHIGENIA 

To  do  so  is,  alas,  beyond  our  power. 

ARKAS 

What  thou  wouldst  shun,  thou  deem'st  impossible. 

IPHIGENIA 

Thy  wish  doth  make  thee  deem  it  possible. 

ARKAS 
Wilt  thou  so  calmly  venture  everything  T 

IPHIGENIA 

My  fate  I  have  committed  to  the  gods. 


IPHIGENIA 

By  their  appointment  everything  is  done. 


206  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

AREAS 

Believe  me,  all  doth  now  depend  on  thee. 

The  irritated  temper  of  the  king 

Alone  condemns  these  men  to  bitter  death. 

The  soldiers  from  the  cruel  sacrifice 

And  bloody  service  long  have  been  disused; 

Nay,  many,  whom  their  adverse  fortunes  cast 

In  foreign  regions,  there  themselves  have  felt 

How  godlike  to  the  exil'd  wanderer 

The  friendly  countenance  of  man  appears. 

Do  not  deprive  us  of  thy  gentle  aid! 

With  ease  thou  canst  thy  sacred  task  f ulfil ; 

For  nowhere  doth  benignity,  which  comes 

In  human  form  from  heaven,  so  quickly  gain 

An  empire  o'er  the  heart,  as  where  a  r.ace, 

Gloomy  and  savage,  full  of  life  and  power, 

Without  external  guidance,  and  oppress 'd 

With  vague  forebodings,  bear  life 's  heavy  load. 

IPHIGENIA 

Shake  not  my  spirit,  which  thou  canst  not  bend 
According  to  thy  will. 

ABKAS 

While  there  is  time 
Nor  labor  nor  persuasion  shall  be  spar'd. 

IPHIGENIA 

Thy  labor  but  occasions  pain  to  me ; 
Both  are  in  vain ;  therefore,  I  pray,  depart. 

ARKAS 

I  summon  pain  to  aid  me,  'tis  a  friend 
Who  counsels  wisely. 

IPHIGENIA 

Though  it  shakes  my  soul, 
It  doth  not  banish  thence  my  strong  repugnance. 

ARKAS 

Can  then  a  gentle  soul  repugnance  feel 
For  benefits  bestow 'd  by  one  so  noble! 


206  -E  GERMAN  CLASSICS 


doth  now  tl 
mper  of  tl* 

hese  men  to  bitter  death. 
!ice 

isused; 

whom  their  o  fortunes  cast 

ign  regions  !ves  have  felt 

e  to  th<  nderer 

•  lly  countenance  of  man  appears, 
ieprive  us  of  thy  gentle  aid! 
ease  thou  caj*  .'d  task  fulfil; 

.lowhere  doth  V  v,  which  comes 

human  form  from  ..  so  quickly  gain 

An  empire  o'er  th«-  as  where  a  r.ace, 

Gloomy  and  savag  f  life  and  power, 

Without  external  e,  and  oppressed 

With  va^ue  foreboding   IPHJGSW^  heavy  load. 

1PHIGBNIA 

Shake  not  my  spirit,  which  thou  canst  not  bend 
According  to  thy  will. 

ARKAS 

there  is  time 
Nor  labor  nor  persuasion  shall  be  spared. 

IPHJGENIA 

Thy  labor  but  occasions  pain  to  me ; 
Both  are  in  vain ;  therefore,  I  pray,  depart 

ARI 

I  summon  pain  to  aid  me.  'tis  a  friend 
Who  counsels  wis< 

IPHIOBKIA 

Though  it  shakes  my  soul, 

Danish  '  >y  stroncr  repugnance. 

From  tk<'  Painting  by  M<LS  rv£h 

ABKA8 

soul  repugnance  "feel 
by  one  so  noble  t 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  207 

IPHIGENIA 

Yes,  when  the  donor,  for  those  benefits, 
Instead  of  gratitude,  demands  myself. 

ABKAS 

Who  no  affection  feels  doth  never  want 
Excuses.    To  the  king  I  will  relate 
What  hath  befallen.    0  that  in  thy  soul 
Thou  wouldst  revolve  his  noble  conduct  to  thee 
Since  thy  arrival  to  the  present  day! 

SCENE  III 

IPHIGENIA  (alone) 

These  words  at  an  unseasonable  hour 
Produce  a  strong  revulsion  in  my  breast ; 
I  am  alarm 'd! — For  as  the  rushing  tide 
In  rapid  currents  eddies  o'er  the  rocks 
Which  lie  among  the  sand  upon  the  shore; 
E'en  so  a  stream  of  joy  o'erwhelm'd  my  soul. 
I  grasp 'd  what  had  appear 'd  impossible. 
It  was  as  though  another  gentle  cloud 
Around  me  lay,  to  raise  me  from  the  earth, 
And  rock  my  spirit  in  the  same  sweet  sleep 
Which  the  kind  goddess  shed  around  my  brow, 
What  time  her  circling  arm  from  danger  snatched  me. 
My  brother  forcibly  engross 'd  my  heart; 
I  listen 'd  only  to  his  friend's  advice; 
My  soul  rush'd  eagerly  to  rescue  them, 
And  as  the  mariner  with  joy  surveys 
The  less'ning  breakers  of  a  desert  isle, 
So  Tauris  lay  behind  me.    But  the  voice 
Of  faithful  Arkas  wakes  me  from  my  dream, 
Reminding  me  that  those  whom  I  forsake 
Are  also  men.    Deceit  doth  now  become 
Doubly  detested.    0  my  soul,  be  still ! 
Beginn'st  thou  now  to  tremble  and  to  doubt? 
Thy  lonely  shelter  on  the  firm-set  earth 


208  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Must  thou  abandon?  and,  embark 'd  once  more, 
At  random  drift  upon  tumultuous  waves, 
A  stranger  to  thyself  and  to  the  world? 

SCENE  IV 
IPHIGENIA,  PYLADES 

PYLADES 

Where  is  she?  that  my  words  with  speed  may  tell 
The  joyful  tidings  of  our  near  escape ! 

IPHIGENIA 

Oppressed  with  gloomy  care,  I  much  require 
The  certain  comfort  thou  dost  promise  me. 

PYLADES 

Thy  brother  is  restor'd!    The  rocky  paths 
Of  this  unconsecrated  shore  we  trod 
In  friendly  converse,  while  behind  us  lay, 
Unmark'd  by  us,  the  consecrated  grove; 
And  ever  with  increasing  glory  shone 
The  fire  of  youth  around  his  noble  brow. 
Courage  and  hope  his  glowing  eye  inspired; 
And  his  exultant  heart  resigned  itself 
To  the  delight,  the  joy,  of  rescuing 
Thee,  his  deliverer,  also  me,  his  friend. 

IPHIGENIA 

The  gods  shower  blessings  on  thee,  Pylades ! 
And  from  those  lips  which  breathe  such  welcome  news 
Be  the  sad  note  of  anguish  never  heard ! 

PYLADES 

I  bring  yet  more, —  for  Fortune,  like  a  prince, 
Comes  not  alone,  but  well  accompanied. 
Our  friends  and  comrades  we  have  also  found. 
Within  a  bay  they  had  conceal 'd  the  ship, 
And  mournful  sat  expectant.    They  beheld 


EPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  209 

Thy  brother,  and  a  joyous  shout  uprais'd, 
Imploring  him  to  haste  the  parting  hour. 
Each  hand  impatient  long'd  to  grasp  the  oar, 
While  from  the  shore  a  gently  murmuring  breeze, 
Perceiv'd  by  all,  unfurl 'd  its  wing  auspicious. 
Let  us  then  hasten ;  guide  me  to  the  fane, 
That  I  may  tread  the  sanctuary,  and  win 
With  sacred  awe  the  goal  of  our  desires. 
I  can  unaided  on  my  shoulder  bear 
The  goddess '  image :  how  I  long  to  feel 
The  precious  burden! 

(While  speaking  the  last  words,  he  approaches  the 
Temple,  without  perceiving  that  he  is  not  followed 
by  IPHIGENIA:  at  length  he  turns  around.) 

Why  thus  lingering  stand? 
Why  art  thou  silent  f  wherefore  thus  eonfus'd! 
Doth  some  new  obstacle  oppose  our  bliss! 
Inform  me,  hast  thou  to  the  king  announc'd 
The  prudent  message  we  agreed  upon! 

EPHIGENIA 

I  have,  dear  Pylades ;  yet  wilt  thou  chide. 
Thy  very  aspect  is  a  mute  reproach. 
The  royal  messenger  arriv'd,  and  I, 
According  to  thy  counsel,  fram'd  my  speech. 
He  seem'd  surpris'd,  and  urgently  besought, 
That  to  the  monarch  I  should  first  announce 
The  rite  unusual,  and  attend  his  will. 
I  now  await  the  messenger's  return. 

PYLADES 

Danger  again  doth  hover  o'er  our  heads! 
Alas!    Why  hast  thou  failed  to  shroud  thyself 
Within  the  veil  of  sacerdotal  rites! 

IPHIGENIA 

I  never  have  employ 'd  them  as  a  veil. 

Voi.  1  —  14 


210  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

PYLADES 

Pure  soul!  thy  scruples  will  destroy  alike 
Thyself  and  us.    Why  did  I  not  forsee 
Such  an  emergency,  and  tutor  thee 
This  counsel  also  wisely  to  elude! 

IPHIGENIA 

Chide  only  me,  for  mine  alone  the  blame. 
Yet  other  answer  could  I  not  return 
To  him,  who  strongly  and  with  reason  urged 
What  my  own  heart  acknowledged  to  be  right. 

PYLADES 

The  danger  thickens ;  but  let  us  be  firm, 
Nor  with  incautious  haste  betray  ourselves; 
Calmly  await  the  messenger's  return, 
And  then  stand  fast,  whatever  his  reply : 
For  the  appointment  of  such  sacred  rites 
Doth  to  the  priestess,  not  the  king,  belong. 
Should  he  demand  the  stranger  to  behold, 
Who  is  by  madness  heavily  oppress 'd, 
Evasively  pretend,  that  in  the  fane, 
Well  guarded,  thou  retainest  him  and  me. 
Thus  you  secure  us  time  to  fly  with  speed, 
Bearing  the  sacred  treasure  from  this  race, 
Unworthy  its  possession.    Phoebus  sends 
Auspicious  omens,  and  fulfils  his  word, 
Ere  we  the  first  conditions  have  perform  'd. 
Free  is  Orestes,  from  the  curse  absolv'd! 
Oh,  with  the  freed  one,  to  the  rocky  isle 
Where  dwells  the  god,  waft  us,  propitious  gales. 
Thence  to  Mycene,  that  she  may  revive ; 
That  from  the  ashes  of  the  extinguish 'd  hearth, 
The  household  gods  may  joyously  arise, 
And  beauteous  fire  illumine  their  abode ! 
Thy  hand  from  golden  censers  first  shall  strew 
The  fragrant  incense.    O'er  that  threshold  thou 
Shalt  life  and  blessing  once  again  dispense, 
The  curse  atone,  and  all  thy  kindred  grace 
With  the  fresh  bloom  of  renovated  life. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUBIS  211 

IPHIGENIA 

As  doth  the  flower  revolve  to  meet  the  sun, 

Once  more  my  spirit  to  sweet  comfort  turns, 

Struck  by  thy  words'  invigorating  ray. 

How  dear  the  counsel  of  a  present  friend, 

Lacking  whose  godlike  power,  the  lonely  one 

In  silence  droops!  for,  lock'd  within  his  breast, 

Slowly  are  ripen 'd  purpose  and  resolve, 

Which  friendship's  genial  warmth  had  soon  matur'd. 

PYLADES 

Farewell !    I  haste  to  re-assure  our  friends, 
Who  anxiously  await  us :  then  with  speed 
I  will  return,  and,  hid  within  the  brake, 
Attend  thy  signal. — Wherefore,  all  at  once, 
Doth  anxious  thought  o'ercloud  thy  brow  serene  t 

IPHIGENIA 

Forgive  me!    As  light  clouds  athwart  the  sun, 
So  cares  and  fears  float  darkling  o'er  my  soul.  . 

PYLADES 

Oh,  banish  fear!    With  danger  it  hath  form'd 
A  close  alliance, —  they  are  constant  friends. 

IPHIGENIA 

It  is  an  honest  scruple,  which  forbids 
That  I  should  cunningly  deceive  the  king, 
And  plunder  him  who  was  my  second  father. 

PYLADES 

Him  thou  dost  fly,  who  would  have  slain  thy  brother. 

IPHIGENIA 

To  me,  at  least,  he  hath  been  ever  kind. 

PYLADES 

What  Fate  commands  is  not  ingratitude. 

IPHIGENIA 

Alas !  it  still  remains  ingratitude ; 
Necessity  alone  can  justify  it. 


212  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

PYLADES 

Thee,  before  gods  and  men,  it  justifies. 

IPHIGENIA 

But  my  own  heart  is  still  unsatisfied. 

PYLADES 

Scruples  too  rigid  are  a  cloak  for  pride. 

IPHIGENIA 

I  cannot  argue,  I  can  only  feel. 

PYLADES 

Conscious  of  right,  thou  shouldst  respect  thyself. 

IPHIGENIA 

Then  only  doth  the  heart  know  perfect  ease, 
When  not  a  stain  pollutes  it. 

PYLADES 

In  this  fane 

Pure  hast  thou  kept  thy  heart.    Life  teaches  us 
To  be  less  strict  with  others  and  ourselves ; 
Thou 'It  learn  the  lesson  too.    So  wonderful 
Is  human  nature,  and  its  varied  ties 
Are  so  involv'd  and  complicate,  that  none 
May  hope  to  keep  his  inmost  spirit  pure, 
And  walk  without  perplexity  through  life. 
Nor  are  we  call  'd  upon  to  judge  ourselves ; 
With  circumspection  to  pursue  his  path, 
Is  the  immediate  duty  of  a  man ; 
For  seldom  can  he  rightly  estimate, 
Of  his  past  conduct  or  his  present  deeds. 

IPHIGENIA 
Almost  thou  dost  persuade  me  to  consent. 

PYLADES 

Needs  there  persuasion  when  no  choice  is  granted! 
To  save  thyself,  thy  brother,  and  a  friend, 
One  path  presents  itself,  and  canst  thou  ask 
If  we  shall  follow  it  ? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  213 

IPHIGENIA 

Still  let  me  pause, 

For  such  injustice  thou  couldst  not  thyself 
Calmly  return  for  benefits  received. 

PYLADES 

If  we  should  perish,  bitter  self-reproach, 
Forerunner  of  despair,  will  be  thy  portion. 
It  seems  thou  art  not  used  to  suffer  much, 
When,  to  escape  so  great  calamity, 
Thou  canst  refuse  to  utter  one  false  word. 

IPHIGENIA 

Oh,  that  I  bore  within  a  manly  heart! 
Which,  when  it  hath  conceiv'd  a  bold  resolve, 
'Gainst  every  other  voice  doth  close  itself. 

PYLADES 

In  vain  thou  dost  refuse ;  with  iron  hand 
Necessity  commands ;  her  stern  decree 
Is  law  supreme,  to  which  the  gods  themselves 
Must  yield  submission.    In  dread  silence  rules 
The  uncounsell'd  sister  of  eternal  fate. 
What  she  appoints  thee  to  endure, —  endure; 
What  to  perform, —  perform.    The  rest  thou  knowest. 
Ere  long  I  will  return,  and  then  receive 
The  seal  of  safety  from  thy  sacred  hand. 

SCENE  V 

IPHIGENIA  (alone) 

I  must  obey  him,  for  I  see  my  friends 
Beset  with  peril.    Yet  my  own  sad  fate 
Doth  with  increasing  anguish  move  my  heart. 
May  I  no  longer  feed  the  silent  hope 
Which  in  my  solitude  I  fondly  cherish 'd? 
Shall  the  dire  curse  eternally  endure? 
And  shall  our  fated  race  ne'er  rise  again 


214  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

With  blessings  crown  'd? — All  mortal  things  decay — 

The  noblest  powers,  the  purest  joys  of  life 

At  length  subside:  then  wherefore  not  the  curse! 

And  have  I  vainly  hoped  that,  guarded  here, 

Secluded  from  the  fortunes  of  my  race, 

I,  with  pure  heart  and  hands,  some  future  day 

Might  cleanse  the  deep  defilement  of  our  house? 

Scarce  was  my  brother  in  my  circling  arms 

From  raging  madness  suddenly  restor'd, 

Scarce  had  the  ship,  long  pray'd  for,  near'd  the  strand 

Once  more  to  waft  me  to  my  native  shores, 

When  unrelenting  Fate,  with  iron  hand, 

A  double  crime  enjoins;  commanding  me 

To  steal  the  image,  sacred  and  rever'd, 

Confided  to  my  care,  and  him  deceive 

To  whom  I  owe  my  life  and  destiny. 

Let  not  abhorrence  spring  within  my  heart ! 

Nor  the  old  Titan's  hate,  toward  you,  ye  gods 

Infix  its  vulture  talons  in  my  breast ! 

Save  me  and  save  your  image  in  my  soul! 

An  ancient  song  comes  back  upon  mine  ear  — 
I  had  forgotten  it,  and  willingly  — 
The  ParcsB's  song,  which  horribly  they  sang, 
What  time,  hurl'd  headlong  from  his  golden  seat, 
Fell  Tantalus.    They  with  their  noble  friend 
Keen  anguish  suffer 'd;  savage  was  their  breast 
And  horrible  their  song.    In  days  gone  by, 
When  we  were  children,  oft  our  ancient  nurse 
Would  sing  it  to  us,  and  I  mark'd  it  well. 

Oh,  fear  the  immortals, 
Ye  children  of  men! 
Eternal  dominion 
They  hold  in  their  hands, 
And  o'er  their  wide  empire 
Wield  absolute  sway. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  215 

Whom  they  have  exalted 
Let  him  fear  them  most ! 
Around  golden  tables, 
On  cliffs  and  clouds  resting 
The  seats  are  prepared. 

If  contest  ariseth, 

The  guests  are  hurPd  headlong, 

Disgrac'd  and  dishonor 'd, 

To  gloomy  abysses, 

And,  fetter 'd  in  darkness, 

Await  the  vain  longing 

A  juster  decree. 

But  in  feasts  everlasting, 
Around  the  gold  tables 
Still  dwell  the  immortals. 
From  mountain  to  mountain 
They  stride;  while  ascending 
From  fathomless  chasms 
The  breath  of  the  Titans, 
Half-stifled  with  anguish, 
Like  volumes  of  incense 
Fumes  up  to  the  skies. 

From  races  ill-fated, 
Their  aspect  joy-bringing, 
Oft  turn  the  celestials, 
And  shun  in  the  children 
To  gaze  on  the  features 
Once  lovM  and  still  speaking 
Of  their  mighty  sire. 

So  chanted  the  Parcae; 
The  banish 'd  one  hearkens 
The  song,  the  hoar  captive 
Immur'd  in  his  dungeon, 
His  children's  doom  ponders, 
And  boweth  his  head. 


216  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ACT  V 

SCENE   I 
THOAS,  ARKAS 

ARKAS 

I  own  I  am  perplex  'd  and  scarcely  know 
'Gainst  whom  to  point  the  shaft  of  my  suspicion, 
Whether  the  priestess  aids  the  captives'  flight, 
Or  they  themselves  clandestinely  contrive  it. 
'Tis  rumor 'd  that  the  ship  which  brought  them  here 
Is  lurking  somewhere  in  a  bay  conceal 'd. 
This  stranger's  madness,  these  new  lustral  rites, 
The  specious  pretext  for  delay,  excite 
Mistrust,  and  call  aloud  for  vigilance. 

THOAS 

Summon  the  priestess  to  attend  me  here ! 
Then  go  with  speed,  and  strictly  search  the  shore, 
From  yonder  headland  to  Diana 's  grove : 
Forbear  to  violate  its  sacred  depths, 
A  watchful  ambush  set,  attack  and  seize, 
According  to  your  wont,  whome'er  ye  find. 

[AREAS  retires.] 
SCENE  II 

THOAS  (alone) 

Fierce  anger  rages  in  my  riven  breast, 
First  against  her,  whom  I  esteemed  so  pure ; 
Then  'gainst  myself,  whose  foolish  lenity 
Hath  fashion 'd  her  for  treason.    Man  is  soon 
Inur'd  to  slavery,  and  quickly  learns 
Submission,  when  of  freedom  quite  depriv'd. 
If  she  had  fallen  in  the  savage  hands 
Of  my  rude  sires,  and  had  their  holy  rage 
Forborne  to  slay  her,  grateful  for  her  life, 
She  would  have  recogniz  'd  her  destiny, 
Have  shed  before  the  shrine  the  stranger 's  blood, 
And  duty  nam'd  what  was  necessity. 


EPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  217 

Now  my  forbearance  in  her  breast  allures 

Audacious  wishes.    Vainly  I  had  hoped 

To  bind  her  to  me ;  rather  she  contrives 

To  shape  an  independent  destiny. 

She  won  my  heart  through  flattery ;  and  now 

That  I  oppose  her,  seeks  to  gain  her  ends 

By  fraud  and  cunning,  and  my  kindness  deems 

A  worthless  and  prescriptive  property. 

SCENE  III 
IPHIGENIA,  THOAS 

IPHIGENIA 
Me  hast  thou  summon 'df  wherefore  art  thou  here! 

THOAS 
Wherefore  delay  the  sacrifice?  inform  me. 

IPHIGENIA 
I  have  acquainted  Arkas  with  the  reasons. 

THOAS 
From  thee  I  wish  to  hear  them  more  at  large. 

IPHIGENIA 

The  goddess  for  reflection  grants  thee  time. 

THOAS 
To  thee  this  time  seems  also  opportune. 

IPHIGENIA 

If  to  this  cruel  deed  thy  heart  is  steel'd, 
Thou  shouldst  not  come !    A  king  who  meditates 
A  deed  inhuman,  may  find  slaves  enow, 
"Willing  for  hire  to  bear  one-half  the  curse, 
And  leave  the  monarch's  presence  undefiPd. 
Enrapt  in  gloomy  clouds  he  forges  death, 
Flaming  destruction  then  his  ministers 
Hurl  down  upon  his  wretched  victim's  head, 
While  he  abideth  high  above  the  storm, 
Calm  and  untroubled,  an  impassive  god. 


218  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

THOAS 

A  wild  song,  priestess,  issued  from  thy  lips. 

IPHIGBNIA 

No  priestess,  king !  but  Agamemnon 's  daughter ; 
While  yet  unknown,  thou  didst  respect  my  words: 
A  princess  now, —  and  think 'st  thou  to  command  me! 
From  youth  I  have  been  tutor 'd  to  obey, 
My  parents  first  and  then  the  deity; 
And  thus  obeying,  ever  hath  my  soul 
Known  sweetest  freedom.    But  nor  then  nor  now 
Have  I  been  taught  compliance  with  the  voice 
And  savage  mandates  of  a  man. 

THOAS 

Not  I, 
An  ancient  law  doth  thy  obedience  claim. 

IPHIGENIA 

Our  passions  eagerly  catch  hold  of  laws 
Which  they  can  wield  as  weapons.    But  to  me 
Another  law,  one  far  more  ancient,  speaks 
And  doth  command  me  to  withstand  thee,  king! 
That  law  declaring  sacred  every  stranger. 

THOAS 

These  men,  methinks,  lie  very  near  thy  heart, 
When  sympathy  with  them  can  lead  thee  thus 
To  violate  discretion's  primal  law, 
That  those  in  power  should  never  be  provok'd. 

EPHIGENIA 

Speaking  or  silent,  thou  canst  always  know 
What  is,  and  ever  must  be,  in  my  heart. 
Doth  not  remembrance  of  a  common  doom, 
To  soft  compassion  melt  the  hardest  heart? 
How  much  more  mine !  in  them  I  see  myself. 
I  trembling  kneel 'd  before  the  altar  once, 
And  solemnly  the  shade  of  early  death 
Environ 'd  me.    Aloft  the  knife  was  rais'd 
To  pierce  my  bosom,  throbbing  with  warm  life ; 


IPfflGENIA  IN  TAUKIS  219 

A  dizzy  horror  overwhelm 'd  my  soul; 

My  eyes  grew  dim;— I  found  myself  in  safety.  ' 

Are  we  not  bound  to  render  the  distressed 

The  gracious  kindness  from  the  gods  receiv'd! 

Thou  know'st  we  are,  and  yet  wilt  thou  compel  me? 

THOAS 
Obey  thine  office,  priestess,  not  the  king. 

IPHIGENTA 

Cease!  nor  thus  seek  to  cloak  the  savage  force 
Which  triumphs  o'er  a  woman's  feebleness. 
Though  woman,  I  am  born  as  free  as  man. 
Did  Agamemnon's  son  before  thee  stand, 
And  thou  requiredst  what  became  him  not, 
His  arm  and  trusty  weapon  would  defend 
His  bosom's  freedom.    I  have  only  words; 
But  it  becomes  a  noble-minded  man 
To  treat  with  due  respect  the  words  of  woman. 


EPHIGENIA 

Uncertain  ever  is  the  chance  of  arms, 
No  prudent  warrior  doth  despise  his  foe ; 
Nor  yet  defenceless  'gainst  severity 
Hath  nature  left  the  weak;  she  gives  him  craft 
And,  willy,  cunning;  artful  he  delays, 
Evades,  eludes,  and  finally  escapes. 
Such  arms  are  justified  by  violence. 

THOAS 
But  circumspection  countervails  deceit. 

IPHIGENIA 

Which  a  pure  spirit  doth  abhor  to  use. 

THOAS 

Do  not  incautiously  condemn  thyself. 


220  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

Oh,  couldst  thou  see  the  struggle  of  my  soul, 

Courageously  to  ward  the  first  attack 

Of  an  unhappy  doom,  which  threatens  me! 

Do  I  then  stand  before  thee  weaponless? 

Prayer,  lovely  prayer,  fair  branch  in  woman's  hand, 

More  potent  far  than  instruments  of  war, 

Thou  dost  thrust  back.    What  now  remains  for  me 

Wherewith  my  inborn  freedom  to  defend? 

Must  I  implore  a  miracle  from  heaven? 

Is  there  no  power  within  my  spirit's  depths? 

THOAS 

Extravagant  thy  interest  in  the  fate 
Of  these  two  strangers.    Tell  me  who  they  are 
For  whom  thy  heart  is  thus  so  deeply  mov'd. 

IPHIGENIA 
They  are  —  they  seem  at  least  —  I  think  them  Greeks. 

THOAS 

Thy  countrymen;  no  doubt  they  have  renew 'd 
The  pleasing  picture  of  return. 

IPHIGENIA  (after  a  pause} 

Doth  man 

Lay  undisputed  claim  to  noble  deeds? 
Doth  he  alone  to  his  heroic  breast 
Clasp  the  impossible?    What  call  we  great? 
What  deeds,  though  oft  narrated,  still  uplift 
With  shuddering  horror  the  narrator's  soul, 
But  those  which,  with  improbable  success, 
The  valiant  have  attempted?    Shall  the  man 
Who  all  alone  steals  on  his  foes  by  night, 
And  raging  like  an  unexpected  fire, 
Destroys  the  slumbering  host,  and  press 'd  at  length 
By  rous'd  opponents  on  his  foeman's  steeds, 
Retreats  with  booty  —  be  alone  extoll'd? 


IPfflGENIA  IN  TAURIS  221 

Or  he  who,  scorning  safety,  boldly  roams 

Through  woods  and  dreary  wilds,  to  scour  the  land 

Of  thieves  and  robbers?    Is  naught  left  for  us! 

Must  gentle  woman  quite  forego  her  nature, 

Force  against  force  employ,  like  Amazons 

Usurp  the  sword  from  man,  and  bloodily 

Revenge  oppression?    In  my  heart  I  feel 

The  stirrings  of  a  noble  enterprize ; 

But  if  I  fail  —  severe  reproach,  alas ! 

And  bitter  misery  will  be  my  doom. 

Thus  on  my  knees  I  supplicate  the  gods ! 

Oh,  are  ye  truthful,  as  men  say  ye  are, 

Now  prove  it  by  your  countenance  and  aid ; 

Honor  the  truth  in  me!    Attend,  0  king! 

A  secret  plot  deceitfully  is  laid; 

Touching  the  captives  thou  dost  ask  in  vain; 

They  have  departed  hence  and  seek  their  friends, 

Who,  with  the  ship,  await  them  on  the  shore. 

The  eldest, —  whom  dire  madness  lately  seiz'd, 

And  hath  abandoned  now, —  he  is  Orestes, 

My  brother,  and  the  other  Pylades, 

His  early  friend  and  faithful  confidant. 

From  Delphi,  Phoebus  sent  them  to  this  shore 

With  a  divine  command  to  steal  away 

The  image  of  Diana,  and  to  him 

Bear  back  the  sister  thither,  and  for  this 

He  promised  to  the  blood-stained  matricide, 

The  Fury-haunted  son,  deliverance. 

I  have  surrender 'd  now  into  thy  hands 

The  remnants  of  the  house  of  Tantalus. 

Destroy  us — if  thou  canst. 

THOAS 

And  dost  thou  think 

That  the  uncultured  Scythian  will  attend 
The  voice  of  truth  and  of  humanity 
Which  Atreus,  the  Greek,  heard  not? 


222  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IPHIGENIA 

'Tis  heard 

By  every  one,  born  'neath  whatever  clime, 
Within  whose  bosom  flows  the  stream  of  life, 
Pure  and  unhindered. —  What  thy  thought?  0  king, 
What  silent  purpose  broods  in  thy  deep  soul  I 
Is  it  destruction  ?    Let  me  perish  first ! 
For  now,  deliv  'ranee  hopeless,  I  perceive 
The  dreadful  peril  into  which  I  have 
With  rash  precipitancy  plung'd  my  friends. 
Alas!  I  soon  shall  see  them  bound  before  me! 
How  to  my  brother  shall  I  say  farewell? 
I,  the  unhappy  author  of  his  death. 
Ne'er  can  I  gaze  again  in  his  dear  eyes! 

THOAS 

The  traitors  have  contrived  a  cunning  web, 
And  cast  it  round  thee,  who,  secluded  long, 
Giv'st  willing  credence  to  thine  own  desires. 

IPHIGENIA 

No,  no!    I'd  pledge  my  life  these  men  are  true. 

And  shouldst  thou  find  them  otherwise,  O  king, 

Then  let  them  perish  both,  and  cast  me  forth, 

That  on  some  rock-girt  island's  dreary  shore 

I  may  atone  my  folly.    Are  they  true, 

And  is  this  man  indeed  my  dear  Orestes, 

My  brother,  long  implor'd, —  release  us  both, 

And  o  'er  us  stretch  the  kind  protecting  arm 

Which  long  hath  shelter 'd  me.    My  noble  sire 

Fell  through  his  consort's  guilt, —  she  by  her  son; 

On  him  alone  the  hope  of  Atreus'  race 

Doth  now  repose.    Oh,  with  pure  heart,  pure  hand, 

Let  me  depart  to  purify  our  house. 

Yes,  thou  wilt  keep  thy  promise ;  thou  didst  swear, 

That  were  a  safe  return  provided  me, 

I  should  be  free  to  go.    The  hour  is  come. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  223 

A  king  doth  never  grant  like  common  men, 

Merely  to  gain  a  respite  from  petition; 

Nor  promise  what  he  hopes  will  ne'er  be  claim 'd. 

Then  first  he  feels  his  dignity  supreme 

When  he  can  make  the  long-expecting  happy. 

THOAS 

As  fire  opposes  water,  and  doth  seek 
With  hissing  rage  to  overcome  its  foe, 
So  doth  my  anger  strive  against  thy  words. 

IPHIGENIA 

Let  mercy,  like  the  consecrated  flame 
Of  silent  sacrifice,  encircled  round 
With  songs  of  gratitude,  and  joy,  and  praise, 
Above  the  tumult  gently  rise  to  heaven. 

THOAS 
How  often  hath  this  voice  assuag'd  my  soul! 

IPHIGENIA 

Extend  thy  hand  to  me  in  sign  of  peace. 

THOAS 
Large  thy  demand  within  so  short  a  time. 

IPHIGENIA 
Beneficence  doth  no  reflection  need. 

THOAS 
Tis  needed  oft,  for  evil  springs  from  good. 

IPHIGENIA 

'Tis  doubt  which  good  doth  oft  to  evil  turn. 
Consider  not;  act  as  thy  feelings  prompt  thee. 

SCENE  IV 

ORESTES  (armed),  IPHIGENIA,  THOAS 
ORESTES  (addressing  his  followers) 
Redouble  your  exertions!  hold  them  back! 
Few  moments  will  suffice;  maintain  your  ground, 


224  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  keep  a  passage  open  to  the  ship 
For  me  and  for  my  sister. 

(To  IPHIGENIA,  without  perceiving  THOAS.) 

Come  with  speed! 
We  are  betray 'd, — brief  time  remains  for  flight. 

(He  perceives  the  king.) 

THOAS  (laying  his  hand  on  his  sword) 
None  in  my  presence  with  impunity 
His  naked  weapon  wears. 

IPHIGENIA 

Do  not  profane 

Diana's  sanctuary  with  rage  and  blood. 
Command  your  people  to  forbear  awhile, 
And  listen  to  the  priestess,  to  the  sister. 

ORESTES 
Say,  who  is  he  that  threatens  us? 

IPHIGENIA 

In  him 

Revere  the  king,  who  was  my  second  father. 
Forgive  me,  brother,  that  my  childlike  heart 
Hath  plac'd  our  fate  thus  wholly  in  his  hands. 
I  have  betray 'd  your  meditated  flight, 
And  thus  from  treachery  redeem 'd  my  soul. 

ORESTES 

Will  he  permit  our  peaceable  return? 

IPHIGENIA 
Thy  gleaming  sword  forbids  me  to  reply. 

ORESTES  (sheathing  his  sword) 
Then  speak!  thou  seest  I  listen  to  thy  words. 


EPHIGENIA  IN  TAUEIS  225 

SCENE  V 

ORESTES,  IPHIGENIA,  THOAS 

Enter  PYLADES,  soon  after  him  ARKAS    both  with  drawn 

swords. 

PYLADES 

Do  not  delay !  our  friends  are  putting  forth 
Their  final  strength,  and,  yielding  step  by  step, 
Are  slowly  driven  backward  to  the  sea. — 
A  conference  of  princes  find  I  here? 
Is  this  the  sacred  person  of  the  king  I 

AREAS 
Calmly,  as  doth  become  thee,  thou  dost  stand, 

0  king,  surrounded  by  thine  enemies. 
Soon  their  temerity  shall  be  chastized; 

Their  yielding  followers  fly, —  their  ship  is  ours, 
Speak  but  the  word  and  it  is  wrapt  in  flames. 

THOAS 

Go,  and  command  my  people  to  forbear! 
Let  none  annoy  the  foe  while  we  confer. 

[ARKAS  retires.] 

ORESTES 

1  willingly  consent.     Go,  Pylades! 
Collect  the  remnant  of  our  friends,  and  wait 
The  appointed  issue  of  our  enterprize. 

[PYLADES  retires.] 
SCENE  VI 
IPHIGENIA,  THOAS,  ORESTES 

IPHIGENIA 

Relieve  my  cares  ere  ye  begin  to  speak. 
I  fear  contention,  if  thou  wilt  not  hear 
The  voice  of  equity,  0  king, —  if  thou 
Wilt  not,  my  brother,  curb  thy  headstrong  youth. 

THOAS 

I,  as  becomes  the  elder,  check  my  rage. 
Now  answer  me :  how  dost  thou  prove  thyself 
The  priestess'  brother,  Agamemnon's  son? 

VOL.  1—15 


226  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ORESTES 

Behold  the  sword  with  which  the  hero  slew 
The  valiant  Trojans.     From  his  murderer 
I  took  the  weapon,  and  implor'd  the  Gods 
To  grant  me  Agamemnon's  mighty  arm, 
Success,  and  valor,  with  a  death  more  noble. 
Select  one  of  the  leaders  of  thy  host, 
And  place  the  best  as  my  opponent  here. 
Where'er  on  earth  the  sons  of  heroes  dwell, 
This  boon  is  -to  the  stranger  ne'er  refus'd. 

THOAS 

This  privilege  hath  ancient  custom  here 
To  strangers  ne'er  accorded. 

ORESTES 

Then  from  us 

Commence  the  novel  custom!     A  whole  race 
In  imitation  soon  will  consecrate 
Its  monarch's  noble  action  into  law. 
Nor  let  me  only  for  our  liberty, — 
Let  me,  a  stranger,  for  all  strangers  fight. 
If  I  should  fall,  my  doom  be  also  theirs; 
But  if  kind  fortune  crown  me  with  success, 
Let  none  e'er  tread  this  shore,  and  fail  to  meet 
The  beaming  eye  of  sympathy  and  love, 
Or  unconsoled  depart ! 

THOAS 

Thou  dost  not  seem 
Unworthy  of  thy  boasted  ancestry. 
Great  is  the  number  of  the  valiant  men 
Who  wait  upon  me;  but  I  will  myself, 
Although  advanc'd  in  years,  oppose  the  foe, 
And  am  prepar'd  to  try  the  chance  of  arms. 

IPHIGENIA 

No,  no!  such  bloody  proofs  are  not  requir'd. 
Unhand  thy  weapon,  king!  my  lot  consider; 
Rash  combat  oft  immortalizes  man; 


IPfflGENIA  IN  TAURIS  227 

If  he  should  fall,  he  is  renown 'd  in  song; 
But  after  ages  reckon  not  the  tears 
Which  ceaseless  the  forsaken  woman  sheds; 
And  poets  tell  not  of  the  thousand  nights 
Consum'd  in  weeping,  and  the  dreary  days, 
Wherein  her  anguish 'd  soul,  a  prey  to  grief, 
Doth  vainly  yearn  to  call  her  lov'd  one  back. 
Fear  warn'd  me  to  beware  lest  robbers'  wiles 
Might  lure  me  from  this  sanctuary,  and  then 
Betray  me  into  bondage.     Anxiously 
I  question 'd  them,  each  circumstance  explor'd, 
Demanded  proofs,  now  is  my  heart  assur'd. 
See  here,  the  mark  on  his  right  hand  impress 'd 
As  of  three  stars,  which  on  his  natal  day 
Were  by  the  priest  declar'd  to  indicate 
Some  dreadful  deed  therewith  to  be  perform 'd. 
And  then  this  scar,  which  doth  his  eyebrow  cleave, 
Redoubles  my  conviction.     When  a  child, 
Electra,  rash  and  inconsiderate, 
Such  was  her  nature,  loos'd  him  from  her  arms, 
He  fell  against  a  tripos.     Oh,  'tis  he!  — 
Shall  I  adduce  the  likeness  to  his  sire, 
Or  the  deep  rapture  of  my  inmost  heart, 
In  further  token  of  assurance,  kingf 

THOAS 

E'en  though  thy  words  had  banish 'd  every  doubt, 
And  I  had  curb'd  the  anger  in  my  breast, 
Still  must  our  arms  decide.     I  see  no  peace. 
Their  purpose,  as  thou  didst  thyself  confess, 
Was  to  deprive  me  of  Diana's  image. 
And  think  ye  I  will  look  contented  on? 
The  Greeks  are  wont  to  cast  a  longing  eye 
Upon  the  treasures  of  barbarians, 
A  golden  fleece,  good  steeds,  or  daughters  fair; 
But  force  and  guile  not  .always  have  avail'd 
To  lead  them,  with  their  booty,  safely  home. 


228  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

OEESTES 

The  image  shall  not  be  a  cause  of  strife! 

We  now  perceive  the  error  which  the  god, 

Our  journey  here  commanding,  like  a  veil, 

Threw  o'er  our  minds.     His  counsel  I  implor'd, 

To  free  me  from  the  Furies'  grisly  band. 

He  answer 'd,  "  Back  to  Greece  the  sister  bring, 

Who  in  the  sanctuary  on  Tauris'  shore 

Unwillingly  abides ;  so  ends  the  curse ! ' ' 

To  Phoebus ''sister  we  applied  the  words, 

And  he  referr'd  to  thee!     The  bonds  severe, 

Which  held  thee  from  us,  holy  one,  are  rent, 

And  thou  art  ours  once  more.     At  thy  blest  touch, 

I  felt  myself  restor'd.     Within  thine  arms, 

Madness  once  more  around  me  coil'd  its  folds, 

Crushing  the  marrow  in  my  frame,  and  then 

Forever,  like  a  serpent,  fled  to  hell. 

Through  thee,  the  daylight  gladdens  me  anew, 

The  counsel  of  the  goddess  now  shines  forth 

In  all  its  beauty  and  beneficence. 

Like  to  a  sacred  image,  unto  which 

An  oracle  immutably  hath  bound 

A  city's  welfare,  thee  she  bore  away, 

Protectress  of  our  house,  and  guarded  here 

Within  this  holy  stillness,  to  become 

A  blessing  to  thy  brother  and  thy  race. 

Now  when  each  passage  to  escape  seems  clos'd, 

And  safety  hopeless,  thou  dost  give  us  all. 

O  king,  incline  thine  heart  to  thoughts  of  peace ! 

Let  her  fulfil  her  mission,  and  complete 

The  consecration  of  our  father's  house, 

Me  to  their  purified  abode  restore, 

And  place  upon  my  brow  the  ancient  crown ! 

Requite  the  blessing  which  her  presence  brought  thee, 

And  let  me  now  my  nearer  right  enjoy ! 

Cunning  and  force,  the  proudest  boast    of  man, 

Fade  in  the  lustre  of  her  perfect  truth; 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  229 

Nor  unrequited  will  a  noble  mind 

Leave  confidence,  so  childlike  and  so  pure. 

IPHIGENIA 

Think  on  thy  promise;  let  thy  heart  be  mov'd 
By  what  a  true  and  honest  tongue  hath  spoken  I 
Look  on  us,  king!  an  opportunity 
For  such  a  noble  deed  not  oft  occurs. 
Refuse  thou  canst  not, —  give  thy  quick  consent. 

THOAS 
Then  go! 

IPHIGENIA 

Not  so,  my  king!  I  cannot  part 
Without  thy  blessing,  or  in  anger  from  thee, 
Banish  us  not!  the  sacred  right  of  guests 
Still  let  us  claim :  so  not  eternally 
Shall  we  be  sever 'd.     Honor 'd  and  belov'd 
As  mine  own  father  was,  art  thou  by  me ; 
And  this  impression  in  my  soul  abides, 
Let  but  the  least  among  thy  people  bring 
Back  to  mine  ear  the  tones  I  heard  from  thee, 
Or  should  I  on  the  humblest  see  thy  garb, 
I  will  with  joy  receive  him  as  a  god, 
Prepare  his  couch  myself,  beside  our  hearth 
Invite  him  to  a  seat,  and  only  ask 
Touching  thy  fate  and  thee.     Oh,  may  the  gods 
To  thee  the  merited  reward  impart 
Of  all  thy  kindness  and  benignity  I 
Farewell !     O  turn  thou  not  away,  but  give 
One  kindly  word  of  parting  in  return! 
So  shall  the  wind  more  gently  swell  our  sails, 
And  from  our  eyes  with  soften'd  anguish  flow, 
The  tears  of  separation.     Fare  thee  well! 
And  graciously  extend  to  me  thy  hand, 
In  pledge  of  ancient  friendship. 

THOAS  (extending  his  hand) 
Fare  thee  well ! 


THE    FAUST    LEGEND    FROM    MARLOWE    TO 

GOETHE 

BY  KUNO  FRANCKE,  PH.D.,  LL.D.,  LITT.D. 

Professor  of  the  History  of  German  Culture,  Harvard  University 


HE  Faust  legend  is  a  conglomerate  of  anony- 
mous popular  traditions,  largely  of  medieval 
origin,  which  in  the  latter  part  of  the  six- 
teenth century  came  to  be  associated  with 
an  actual  individual  of  the  name  of  Faustus 
whose  notorious  career  during  the  first  four  decades  of 
the  century,  as  a  pseudo-scientific  mountebank,  juggler  and 
magician  can  be  traced  through  various  parts  of  Germany. 
The  Faust  Book  of  1587,  the  earliest  collection  of  these 
tales,  is  of  prevailingly  theological  character.  It  repre- 
sents Faust  as  a  sinner  and  reprobate,  and  it  holds  up  his 
compact  with  Mephistopheles  and  his  subsequent  damna- 
tion as  an  example  of  human  recklessness  and  as  a  warn- 
ing to  the  faithful. 

From  this  Faust  Book,  that  is  from  its  English  transla- 
tion, which  appeared  in  1588,  Marlowe  took  his  tragedy 
of  Dr.  Faustus  (1589;  published  1604).  In  Marlowe's 
drama  Faust  appears  as  a  typical  man  of  the  Eenaissance, 
as  an  explorer  and  adventurer,  as  a  superman  craving 
for  extraordinary  power,  wealth,  enjoyment,  and  worldly 
eminence.  The  finer  emotions  are  hardly  touched  upon. 
Mephistopheles  is  the  medieval  devil,  harsh  and  grim  and 
fierce,  bent  on  seduction,  without  any  comprehension  of 
human  aspirations.  Helen  of  Troy  is  a  she-devil,  and 
becomes  the  final  means  of  Faust's  destruction.  Faust's 
career  has  hardly  an  element  of  true  greatness.  $one  of 
the  many  tricks,  conjurings  and  miracles,  which  Faust 
performs  with  Mephistopheles '  help,  has  any  relation  to  the 
deeper  meaning  of  life.  From  the  compact  on  to  the  end 
hardly  anything  happens  which  brings  Faust  inwardly 
nearer  either  to  heaven  or  hell.  But  there  is  a  sturdiness 

[230] 


THE  FAUST  LEGEND  231 

of  character  and  stirring  intensity  of  action,  with  a  happy 
admixture  of  buffoonery,  through  it  all.  And  we  feel  some- 
thing of  the  pathos  and  paradox  of  human  passions  in  the 
fearful  agony  of  Faust's  final  doom. 

The  German  popular  Faust  drama  of  the  seventeenth 
century  and  its  outgrowth  the  puppet  plays,  are  a  reflex 
both  of  Marlowe's  tragedy  and  the  Faust  Book  of  1587, 
although  they  contain  a  number  of  original  scenes,  notably 
the  Council  of  the  Devils  at  the  beginning.  Here  again, 
the  underlying  sentiment  is  the  abhorrence  of  human  reck- 
lessness and  extravagance.  In  some  of  these  plays,  the 
vanity  of  bold  ambition  is  brought  out  with  particular 
emphasis  through  the  contrast  between  the  daring  and 
dissatisfied  Faust  and  his  farcical  counterpart,  the  jolly 
and  contented  Casperle.  In  the  last  scene,  while  Faust 
in  despair  and  contrition  is  waiting  for  the  sound  of  the 
midnight  bell  which  is  to  be  the  signal  of  .his  destruction, 
Casperle,  as  night  watchman,  patrols  the  streets  of  the 
town,  calling  out  the  hours  and  singing  the  traditional 
verses  of  admonition  to  quiet  and  orderly  conduct. 

To  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  then,  Faust 
appeared  as  a  criminal  who  sins  against  the  eternal  laws 
of  life,  as  a  rebel  against  holiness  who  ruins  his  better 
self  and  finally  earns  the  merited  reward  of  his  misdeeds. 
He  could  not  appear  thus  to  the  eighteenth  century.  The 
eighteenth  century  is  the  age  of  Rationalism  and  of  Roman- 
ticism. The  eighteenth  century  glorifies  human  reason 
and  human  feeling.  The  right  of  man  and  the  dignity  of 
man  are  its  principal  watchwords.  Such  an  age  was  bound 
to  see  in  Faust  a  champion  of  freedom,  nature,  truth.  Such 
an  age  was  bound  to  see  in  Faust  a  symbol  of  human  striv- 
ing for  completeness  of  life. 

It  is  Lessing  who  has  given  to  the  Faust  legend  this 
turn.  His  Faust,  unfortunately  consisting  only  of  a  few 
fragmentary  sketches,  is  a  defense  of  Rationalism.  The 
most  important  of  these  fragments,  preserved  to  us  in 
copies  by  some  friends  of  Lessing 's,  is  the  prelude,  a 


232  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

council  of  devils.  Satan  is  receiving  reports  from  his 
subordinates  as  to  what  they  have  done  to  bring  harm  to 
the  realm  of  God.  The  first  devil  who  speaks  has  set  the 
hut  of  some  pious  poor  on  fire;  the  second  has  buried  a 
fleet  of  usurers  in  the  waves.  Both  excite  Satan 's  disgust. 
"  For,"  he  says,  "  to  make  the  pious  poor  still  poorer 
means  only  to  chain  him  all  the  more  firmly  to  God  ' ' ;  and 
the  usurers,  if,  instead  of  being  buried  in  the  waves,  they 
had  been  allowed  to  reach  the  goal  of  their  voyage,  would 
have  wrought  new  evil  on  distant  shores.  Much  more 
satisfied  is  Satan  with  the  report  of  a  third  devil  who  has 
stolen  the  first  kiss  from  a  young  innocent  girl  and  thereby 
breathed  the  flame  of  desire  into  her  veins;  for  he  has 
worked  evil  in  the  world  of  the  spirit  and  that  means 
much  more  and  is  a  much  greater  triumph  for  hell  than  to 
work  evil  in  the  world  of  bodies.  But  it  is  the  fourth  devil 
to  whom  Satan  gives  the  prize.  He  has  not  done  anything 
as  yet.  He  has  only  a  plan,  but  a  plan  which,  if  carried 
out,  would  put  the  deeds  of  all  the  other  devils  into  the 
shade  —  the  plan  "  to  snatch  from  God  his  favorite. ' '  This 
favorite  of  God  is  Faust,  "  a  solitary,  brooding  youth, 
renouncing  all  passion  except  the  passion  for  truth,  entirely 
living  in  truth,  entirely  absorbed  in  it."  To  snatch  him 
from  God  —  that  would  be  a  victory,  over  which  the  whole 
realm  of  night  would  rejoice.  Satan  is  enchanted;  the 
war  against  truth  is  his  element.  Yes,  Faust  must  be 
seduced,  he  must  be  destroyed.  And  he  shall  be  destroyed 
through  his  very  aspiration.  "  Didst  thou  not  say,  he  has 
desire  for  knowledge?  That  is  enough  for  perdition!'1 
His  striving  for  truth  is  to  lead  him  into  darkness.  Under 
such  exclamations  the  devils  break  up,  to  set  about  their 
work  of  seduction;  but,  as  they  are  breaking  up,  there  is 
heard  from  above  a  divine  voice:  "  Ye  shall  not  conquer." 
It  cannot  be  denied  that  Goethe's  earliest  Faust  con- 
ception, the  so-called  Ur-Faust  of  1773  and  '74,  lacks  the 
wide  sweep  of  thought  that  characterizes  these  fragments 
of  Lessing's  drama.  His  Faust  of  the  Storm  and  Stress 


THE  FAUST  LEGEND  233 

period  is  essentially  a  Komanticist.  He  is  a  dreamer, 
craving  for  a  sight  of  the  divine,  longing  to  fathom  the 
inner  working  of  nature,  drunk  with  the  mysteries  of  the 
universe.  But  he  is  also  an  unruly  individualist,  a  reckless 
despiser  of  accepted  morality;  and  it  is  hard  to  see  how 
his  relation  with  Gretchen,  which  forms  by  far  the  largest 
part  of  the  Ur-Faust,  can  lead  to  anything  but  a  tragic 
catastrophe.  Only  Goethe's  second  Faust  conception, 
which  sets  in  with  the  end  of  the  nineties  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  opens  up  a  clear  view  of  the  heights  of  life. 

Goethe  was  now  in  the  full  maturity  of  his  powers,  a 
man  widely  separated  from  the  impetuous  youth  of  the 
seventies  whose  Promethean  emotions  had  burst  forth  with 
volcanic  passion.  He  had  meanwhile  become  a  statesman 
and  a  philosopher.  He  had  come  to  know  in  the  court  of 
Weimar  a  model  of  paternal  government,  conservative  yet 
liberally  inclined,  and  friendly  to  all  higher  culture.  He 
had  found  in  his  truly  spiritual  relation  to  Frau  von  Stein 
a  safe  harbor  for  his  tempestuous  feelings.  He  had  been 
brought  face  to  face,  during  his  sojourn  in  Italy,  with  the 
wonders  of  classic  art.  The  study  of  Spinoza  and  his  own 
scientific  investigations  had  confirmed  him  in  a  thoroughly 
monistic  view  of  the  world  and  strengthened  his  belief 
in  a  universal  law  which  makes  evil  itself  an  integral  part 
of  the  good.  The  example  of  Schiller  as  well  as  his  own 
practical  experience  had  taught  him  that  the  untrammelled 
living  out  of  personality  must  go  hand  in  hand  with  inces- 
sant work  for  the  common  welfare  of  mankind.  All  this 
is  reflected  in  the  completed  Part  First  of  1808 ;  it  finds  its 
most  comprehensive  expression  in  Part  Second,  the  bequest 
of  the  dying  poet  to  posterity. 

Restless  endeavor,  incessant  striving  from  lower  spheres 
of  life  to  higher  ones,  from  the  sensuous  to  the  spiritual, 
from  enjoyment  to  work,  from  creed  to  deed,  from  self 
to  humanity — this  is  the  moving  thought  of  Goethe's  com- 
pleted Faust.  The  keynote  is  struck  in  the  "  Prologue  in 
Heaven."  Faust,  so  we  hear,  the  daring  idealist,  the 


234  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

servant  of  God,  is  to  be  tempted  by  Mephisto,  the  despiser 
of  reason,  the  materialistic  scoffer.  But  we  also  hear,  and 
we  hear  it  from  God's  own  lips,  that  the  tempter  will  not 
succeed.  God  allows  the  devil  free  play,  because  he  knows 
that  he  will  frustrate  his  own  ends.  Faust  will  be  led 
astray  —  "man  errs  while  he  strives";  but  he  will  not 
abandon  his  higher  aspirations;  through  aberration  and 
sin  he  will  find  the  true  way  toward  which  his  inner  nature 
instinctively  guides  him.  He  will  not  eat  dust.  Even  in 
the  compact  with  Mephisto  the  same  ineradicable  optimism 
asserts  itself.  Faust's  wager  with  the  devil  is  nothing  but 
an  act  of  temporary  despair,  and  the  very  fact  that  he 
does  not  hope  anything  from  it  shows  that  he  will  win  it. 
He  knows  that  sensual  enjoyment  will  never  give  him  satis- 
faction; he  knows  that,  as  long  as  he  gives  himself  up  to 
self -gratification,  there  will  never  be  a  moment  to  which 
he  would  say:  "Abide,  thou  art  so  fair!"  From  the 
outset  we  feel  that  by  living  up  to  the  very  terms  of  the 
compact,  Faust  will  rise  superior  to  it;  that  by  rushing 
into  the  whirlpool  of  earthly  experience  and  passion,  his 
being  will  be  heightened  and  expanded. 

And  thus,  everything  in  the  whole  drama,  all  its  inci- 
dents and  all  its  characters,  become  episodes  in  the  round- 
ing out  of  this  grand,  all-comprehensive  personality. 
Gretchen  and  Helena,  Wagner  and  Mephisto,  Homunculus 
and  Euphorion,  the  Emperor's  court  and  the  shades  of  the 
Greek  past,  the  breedings  of  medieval  mysticism  and  the 
practical  tasks  of  modern  industrialism,  the  enlightened 
despotism  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  the  ideal  democ- 
racy of  the  future  —  all  this  and  a  great  deal  more  enters 
into  Faust's  being.  He  strides  on  from  experience  to  expe- 
rience, from  task  to  task,  expiating  guilt  by  doing,  losing 
himself  and  finding  himself  again.  Blinded  in  old  age  by 
Dame  Care,  he  feels  a  new  light  kindled  within.  Dying,  he 
gazes  into  a  far  future.  And  even  in  the  heavenly  regions 
he  goes  on  ever  changing  into  new  and  higher  and  finer 
forms.  It  is  this  irrepressible  spirit  of  striving  which 
makes  Goethe 's  Faust  the  Bible  of  modern  humanity. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FAUST 

BY  CALVIN  THOMAS,  LL.D. 

Professor  of  Germanic  Languages  and  Literatures,  Columbia  University 

HE  central  theme  of  Goethe's  Faust  may  be 
put  in  the  form  of  a  question  thus:  Shall 
a  man  hate  life  because  it  does  not  match 
his  dreams,  or  shall  he  embrace  it  eagerly 
and  try  to  make  the  best  of  it  as  a  social 
being?  Goethe's  answer  is  at  once  scientific  and  religious, 
which  partly  explains  its  vital  interest  for  the  modern  man. 
To  be  sure,  his  answer  is  given  at  the  end  of  a  long 
symbolic  poem  which  contains  much  that  is  not  exactly 
relevant  to  the  main  issue.  It  must  never  be  forgotten 
that  Faust  is  not  the  orderly  development  of  a  thesis  in 
ethics,  but  a  long  succession  of  imaginative  pictures.  Some 
of  them  may  seem  too  recondite  and  fantastic  to  meet  our 
present-day  demand  for  reality,  but  on  the  whole  the  poem 
deals  with  vital  issues  of  the  human  spirit.  At  the  end 
of  it  Faust  arrives  at  a  noble  view  of  life,  and  his  last 
words  undoubtedly  tell  how  Goethe  himself  thought  that 
a  good  man  might  wish  to  end  his  days — unsated  with 
life  to  the  final  moment,  and  expiring  in  an  ecstasy  of 
altruistic  vision. 

Goethe  was  about  twenty  years  old  when  his  imagination 
began  to  be  haunted  by  the  figure  of  the  sixteenth  century 
magician  Doctor  Faust.  In  1772  or  1773  he  commenced 
writing  a  play  on  the  subject,  little  thinking  of  course  that 
it  would  occupy  him  some  sixty  years.  The  old  legend  is 
a  story  of  sin  and  damnation.  Faust  is  represented  as 
an  eager  student  impelled  by  intellectual  curiosity  to  the 
study  of  magic.  From  the  point  of  view  of  the  super- 
stitious folk  who  created  the  legend  this  addiction  to  magic 
is  itself  sinful.  But  Faust  is  bad  and  reckless.  By  the 

[235] 


236 

aid  of  his  black  art  he  calls  up  a  devil  named  (in  the  legend) 
Mephostophiles  with  whom  he  makes  a  contract  of  service. 
For  twenty-four  years  Faust  is  to  have  all  that  he  desires, 
and  then  his  soul  is  to  go  to  perdition*  The  contract  is 
carried  out.  With  the  Devil  as  comrade  and  servant  he 
lords  it  over  time  and  space,  feeds  on  the  fat  of  the  land, 
travels  far  and  wide,  and  does  all  sorts  of  wonderful  things. 
At  the  end  of  the  stipulated  time  the  Devil  gets  him. 

From  the  very  beginning  of  his  musings  on  the  theme 
Goethe  thought  of  Faust  as  a  man  better  than  his  reputa- 
tion; as  a  misunderstood  truth-seeker  who  had  dared  the 
terrors  with  which  "the  popular  imagination  invested  hell, 
in  order  that  he  might  exhaust  the  possibilities  of  this  life. 
Aside  from  his  desire  of  transcendental  knowledge  and 
wide  experience,  there  was  a  third  trait  of  the  legendary 
Faust  which  could  hardly  seem  to  Goethe  anything  but 
creditable  to  human  nature :  his  pas*sion  for  antique  beauty. 
According  to  the  old  story  Faus.t  at  one  time  wishes  to 
marry;  but  as  marriage  is  a  Christian  ordinance  and  he 
has  forsworn  Christianity,  the  Devil  gives  him,  in  place 
of  a  lawful  wife,  a  fantom  counterfeit  of  Helena,  the 
ancient  Queen  of  Beauty.  The  lovely  fantom  becomes 
Faust's  paramour  and  bears  him  a  remarkable  son  called 
Justus  Faustus. 

What  wonder  if  the  young  Goethe,  himself  disappointed 
with  book-learning,  eager  for  life,  and  beset  by  vague 
yearnings  for  mystic  insight  into  the  nature  of  things,  saw 
in  Faust  a  symbol  of  his  own  experience?  But  as  soon 
as  he  began  to  identify  himself  with  his  hero  it  was  all 
up  with  Faust's  utter  damnableness :  a  young  poet  does 
not  plan  to  send  his  own  soul  to  perdition.  At  the  same 
time,  he  could  not  very  well  imagine  him  as  an  out-and-out 
good  man,  since  that  would  have  been  to  turn  the  legend 
topsy-turvy.  The  league  with  the  Devil,  who  would  of 
course  have  to  be  conceived  as  in  some  sense  or  other  an 
embodiment  of  evil,  was  the  very  heart  of  the  old  story. 

At  first  Goethe  planned  his  drama  on  lines  that  had  little 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FAUST  237 

to  do  with  traditional  ideas  of  good  and  bad,  heaven  and 
hell,  God  and  Devil.  Faust  is  introduced  as  a  youngish 
professor  who  has  studied  everything  and  been  teaching 
for  some  ten  years,  with  the  result  that  he  feels  his  knowl- 
edge to  be  vanity  and  his  life  .a  dreary  routine  of  hypocrisy. 
He  resorts  to  magic  in  the  hope  of — what?  It  is  impor- 
tant for  the  understanding  of  the  poem  in  its  initial  stages 
to  bear  in  mind  that  Faust  is  not  at  first  a  votary  of  the 
vulgar  black  art  which  consists  in  calling  up  bad  spirits 
and  doing  reprehensible  things  by  their  assistance.  Fur- 
ther on  he  shows  that  he  is  a  master  of  that  art  too,  but 
at  first  he  is  concerned  with  "  natural  magic,"  which  some 
of  the  old  mystics  whom  Goethe  read  conceived  as  the 
highest  and  divinest  of  sciences.  The  fundamental  assump- 
tion of  natural  magic  is  that  the  universe  as  a  whole  and 
each  component  part  of  it  is  dominated  by  an  indwelling 
spirit  with  whom  it  is  possible  for  the  magician  to  get  into 
communication.  If  he  succeeds  he  becomes  * '  like  ' '  a 
spirit  —  freed  from  the  trammels  of  the  flesh,  a  partaker 
of  divine  knowledge  and  ecstatic  happiness. 

Pursuing  his  wonderful  vagaries  by  means  of  a  magic 
book  that  has  come  into  his  possession,  Faust  first  experi- 
ments with  the  "  sign  "  of  the  Macrocosm,  but  makes  no 
attempt  to  summon  its  presiding  genius,  that  is,  the  World- 
spirit.  He  has  a  wonderful  vision  of  the  harmonious 
Cosmos,  but  it  is  "  only  a  spectacle,"  whereas  he  craves 
food  for  his  soul.  So  he  turns  to  the  sign  of  the  Earth- 
spirit,  whom  he  feels  to  be  nearer  to  him.  By  an  act  of 
supreme  daring  he  utters  the  formula  which  causes  the 
Spirit  to  appear  in  fire  — grand,  awe-inspiring,  terrible. 
A  colloquy  ensues  at  the  end  of  which  the  Spirit  rebuffs 
the  presumptuous  mortal  with  the  words:  *  Thou  art 
like  the  spirit  whom  thou  comprehendest,  not  like  me  "— 
and  disappears.  The  meaning  is  that  Faust,  who  knows 
very  little  of  the  Earth,  having  always  led  the  narrow  life 
of  a  brooding  scholar  in  one  little  corner  of  it,  is  not  fit 
for  intimacy  with  the  mighty  being  who  presides  over  the 


238  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

entire  planet,  with  its  rush  and  change,  its  life  and  death, 
its  vast  and  ceaseless  energy.  He  must  have  a  wider 
experience.  How  shall  he  get  it? 

It  is  a  moot  question  whether  Goethe  at  first  conceived 
Mephistopheles  as  the  Earth-spirit's  envoy,  sent  for  the 
express  purpose  of  showing  Faust  about  the  world,  or 
whether  the  Devil  was  thought  of  as  coming  of  his  own 
accord.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Faust  is  an  experience-drama, 
and  the  Devil 's  function  is  to  provide  the  experience.  And 
he  is  a  devil,  not  the  Devil,  conceived  as  the  bitter  and 
malignant  enemy  of  God,  but  a  subordinate  spirit  whose 
business  it  is,  in  the  world-economy,  to  spur  man  to 
activity.  This  he  does  partly  by  cynical  criticism  and 
opposition,  but  more  especially  by  holding  out  the  lures  of 
the  sensual  life.  At  first  Mephistopheles  was  not  thought 
of  as  working  solely  for  a  reward  in  the  shape  of  souls 
captured  for  eternity,  but  as  playing  his  part  for  the  dia- 
bolical pleasure  of  so  doing.  In  the  course  of  time,  how- 
ever, Goethe  invested  him  more  and  more  with  the  costume 
and  traits  of  the  traditionary  Devil. 

After  the  Earth-spirit's  rebuff  Faust  is  in  despair.  He 
has  set  all  his  hope  on  help  from  the  spirit-world,  and  the 
hope  has  failed.  His  famulus  Wagner,  a  type  of  the 
ardent  and  contented  bookworm,  comes  in  to  get  instruc- 
tion on  the  art  of  public  speaking,  and  Faust  lays  down 
the  law  to  him.  After  Wagner's  exit  Faust  is  hopelessly 
despondent.  After  a  mournful  arraignment  of  life  he  is 
about  to  swallow  a  cup  of  poison  that  he  has  concocted, 
when  his  hand  is  staid  by  the  first  notes  of  the  Easter 
celebration  in  a  neighboring  church.  It  reminds  him  of 
his  happy  youth  when  he,  too,  believed. 

The  coming  day  is  Easter  Sunday.  Faust  and  Wagner 
take  an  afternoon  walk  together  and  witness  the  jollity  of 
the  common  people.  As  they  are  about  to  return  home  at 
nightfall  they  pick  up  a  casual  black  dog  that  has  been 
circling  around  them.  Arrived  in  his  comfortable  study, 
Faust  feels  more  cheerful.  In  a  mood  of  religious  peace 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FAUST  239 

he  sets  about  translating  a  passage  of  the  New  Testament 
into  German.  The  dog  becomes  uneasy  and  begins  to  take 
on  the  appearance  of  a  horrid  monster.  Faust  sees  that 
he  has  brought  home  a  spirit  and  proceeds  to  conjure  the 
beast.  Presently  Mephistopheles  emerges  from  his  canine 
disguise  in  the  costume  of  a  wandering  scholar.  Faust  is 
amused.  He  enters  into  conversation  with  his  guest  and 
learns  something  of  his  character.  A  familiar  acquaint- 
ance ensues,  and  one  day  the  Devil  finds  him  once  more  in 
a  mood  of  bitter  despair,  advises  him  to  quit  the  tedious 
professorial  life,  and  offers  to  be  his  comrade  and  servant 
on  a  grand  tour  of  pleasure.  After  some  bickering  they 
enter  into  a  solemn  agreement  according  to  which  Faust's 
life  is  to  end  whenever  he  shall  "  stretch  himself  on  a  bed 
of  ease,"  completely  satisfied  with  the  passing  moment, 
and  shall  say  to  that  moment,  "  Pray  tarry,  thou  art  so 
fair." 

We  see  that  the  Devil  can  win  in  only  one  way,  namely, 
by  somehow  making  Faust  a  contented  sensualist.  On  the 
other  hand,  Faust  may  win  in  either  of  two  ways.  First, 
he  might  conceivably  go  on  to  his  dying  day  as  a  bitter 
pessimist  at  war  with  life.  In  that  event  he  would  cer- 
tainly never  be  content  with  the  present  moment.  Secondly, 
he  may  outgrow  his  pessimism,  but  never  come  to  the 
point  where  he  is  willing  to  check  the  flight  of  Time ;  when, 
that  is,  he  shall  have  no  more  plans,  hopes,  dreams,  that 
reach  into  the  future  and  seem  worth  living  for.  The 
question  is,  then,  whether  Mephistopheles,  by  any  lure  at 
his  command,  can  subdue  Faust's  forward-ranging  ideal- 
ism. The  Devil  expects  to  win ;  Faust  wagers  his  immortal 
soul  that  the  Devil  will  not  win.  In  the  old  story  the  Devil 
appears  promptly  at  the  end  of  the  twenty-four  years, 
puts  his  victim  to  death,  and  takes  possession  of  his  soul. 
Goethe's  Mephistopheles  is  a  gentleman  of  culture  for 
whom  such  savagery  would  be  impossible.  He  will  wait 
until  his  comrade  dies  a  natural  death  and  then  put  in 


240  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

his  claim  in  the  Devil 's  fashion ;  and  it  will  be  for  the  Lord 
in  heaven  to  decide  the  case. 

Such  is  the  scheme  of  the  drama,  but  after  the  compact 
is  made  we  hear  no  more  of  it  until  just  before  the  end  of 
the  Second  Part.  The  action  takes  the  form  of  a  long 
succession  of  adventures  undertaken  for  the  sake  of  experi- 
ence. Duty,  obligation,  routine,  have  been  left  behind. 
Faust  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  about  and  try  experi- 
ments—  first  in  the  "little  world"  of  humble  folk  (the 
remainder  of  Part  First),  and  then  in  the  "  great  world  " 
of  court  life,  government,  and  war  (the  Second  Part). 

By  way  of  beginning  Faust  is  taken  to  Auerbach's  Cellar, 
where  four  jolly  companions  are  assembled  for  a  drinking- 
bout.  He  is  simply  disgusted  with  the  grossness  and  vul- 
garity of  it  all.  He  is  too  old  —  so  the  Devil  concludes  — 
for  the  role  he  is  playing  and  must  have  his  youth  renewed. 
So  they  repair  to  an  old  witch,  who  gives  Faust  an  elixir 
that  makes  him  young  again.  The  scene  in  the  witch's 
kitchen  was  written  in  Italy  in  1788,  by  which  time  Goethe 
had  come  to  think  of  his  hero  as  an  elderly  man.  The  pur- 
pose of  the  scene  was  to  account  for  the  sudden  change 
of  Faust's  character  from  brooding  philosopher  to  rake 
and  seducer.  Of  course  the  elixir  of  youth  is  at  the  same 
time  a  love-philter. 

Then  come  the  matchless  scenes  that  body  forth  the 
short  romance  of  Margaret,  her  quick  infatuation,  her  loss 
of  virgin  honor,  the  death  of  her  mother  and  brother,  her 
shame  and  misery,  her  agonizing  death  in  prison.  Here 
we  are  in  the  realm  of  pure  realism,  and  never  again  did 
Goethe's  art  sound  such  depths  of  tragic  pathos.  The 
atmosphere  of  the  love-tragedy  is  entirely  different  from 
that  of  the  Faust-legend.  Mephistopheles  as  the  abettor 
of  Faust's  amorous  passion  has  no  need  of  magic.  The 
role  of  Faust  —  that  of  a  man  pulled  irresistibly  by  sexual 
passion,  yet  constantly  tormented  by  his  conscience — is 
repulsive,  but  very  human.  As  he  stands  before  the 
prison  gate  he  says  that  "  the  whole  sorrow  of  mankind  " 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FAUST  241 

holds  him  in  its  grip.  But  this  is  a  part  of  what  he  wished 
for.  He  wished  for  universal  experience  —  to  feel  in  his 
own  soul  all  the  weal  and  all  the  woe  of  humankind.  At 
the  end  of  the  First  Part  he  has  drained  the  cup  of  sin 
and  suffering. 

Imbedded  in  the  love-tragedy  is  one  scene  which  will 
seem  out  of  tune  with  what  has  just  been  said  —  the  Wal- 
purgis  Night.  Here  we  are  back  again  in  the  atmosphere 
of  the  legend,  with  its  magic,  its  witchcraft,  its  gross  sensu- 
ality. We  hardly  recognize  our  friend  Faust  when  we 
find  him  dancing  with  naked  witches  and  singing  lewd 
songs  on  the  Brocken.  The  scene  was  written  in  1800 
when  Goethe  had  become  a  little  cynical  with  respect  to 
the  artistic  coherence  of  Faust  and  looked  on  it  as  a 
*  *  monstrosity. ' '  It  was  a  part  of  the  early  plan  that 
Faust  should  add  to  the  burden  of  his  soul  by  frivolously 
deserting  Margaret  in  the  shame  of  her  approaching 
motherhood  and  spending  some  time  in  gross  pleasures. 
The  visit  to  the  "Witches'  Sabbath  on  the  Brocken  was 
afterward  invented  to  carry  out  this  idea.  In  itself  the 
idea  was  a  good  one;  for  if  Faust  was  to  drain  the  cup 
of  sorrow,  the  ingredient  of  self -contempt  could  not  be  left 
out  of  the  bitter  chalice.  A  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is 
not  so  much  remembering  happier  things  as  remembering 
that  the  happy  state  came  to  an  end  by  one's  own  wrong- 
doing. Still,  most  modern  readers  will  think  that  Goethe, 
in  elaborating  the  Brocken  scene  as  an  interesting  study 
of  the  uncanny  and  the  vile,  let  his  hero  sink  needlessly 
far  into  the  mire. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Second  Part  Goethe  does  not 
reopen  the  book  of  crime  and  remorse  with  which  the  First 
Part  closes.  He  needs  a  new  Faust  for  whom  that  is  all 
past — past,  not  in  the  sense  of  being  lightly  forgotten, 
but  built  into  his  character  and  remembered,  say,  as  one 
remembers  the  ecstasy  and  the  pain  of  twenty  years  ago. 
So  he  ushers  him  directly  into  the  new  life  over  a  bridge 
of  symbolism.  The  restoring  process  which  in  real  life 

VOL.  1  —  16 


242  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

takes  many  years  lie  concentrates  into  a  single  night  and 
represents  it  as  the  work  of  kindly  nocturnal  fairies  and 
the  glorious  Alpine  sunrise.  Faust  awakens  healed  and 
reinvigorated,  and  the  majesty  of  Nature  inspires  in  him 
a  Tesolve  to  "  strive  ever  onward  toward  the  highest 
existence.  * ' 

But  these  fine  words  convey  a  promise  which  is  not  at 
once  fulfilled.  Like  the  most  of  us,  Faust  does  not  long 
continue  to  ^  abide  on  the  Alpine  heights  of  his  own  best 
insight  and  aspiration.  The  comrade  is  at  hand  who  inter- 
rupts his  lonely  communion  with  the  spirit  of  the  moun- 
tains and  draws  him  away  to  the  Emperor's  court,  where 
the  pair  soon  ingratiate  themselves  as  wonder-workers. 
They  so  please  his  Majesty  with  their  marvelous  illusions 
that  they  are  regularly  installed  at  court  as  purveyors  of 
amusement.  The  first  demand  that  is  made  on  them  is 
that  they  produce,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  court,  the 
shades  of  the  supremely  beautiful  Paris  and  Helena.  To 
this  end  Mephistopheles  devises  the  elaborate  hocus-pocus 
of  the  Mothers.  He  sends  Faust  away  to  the  vasty  and 
viewless  realm  of  the  Ideal,  instructing  him  how  to  bring 
thence  a  certain  wonderful  tripod,  from  the  incense  of 
which  the  desired  forms  can  be  made  to  appear.  The 
show  proceeds  successfully,  so  far  as  the  spectators  are 
concerned,  but  an  accident  happens.  Faust  has  been  cau- 
tioned by  his  partner  not  to  touch  the  fantom  forms.  But 
the  moon-struck  idealist  falls  in  love  with  the  beautiful 
Helena  and,  disregarding  orders,  attempts  to  hold  her  fast. 
The  consequence  is  an  explosion;  the  spirits  vanish,  and 
Faust  receives  an  electric  shock  which  paralyzes  all  his 
bodily  functions.  He  is  now  in  a  trance ;  there  is  nothing 
left  of  him  but  a  motionless  body  and  a  mute  soul,  dream- 
ing of  Helena.  Mephistopheles  pretends  to  be  very  much 
disgusted,  but  he  knows  where  to  go  for  help. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  second  act  we  return  to  the 
old  study  that  was  deserted  years  ago.  Faust's  former 
famulus,  Dr.  Wagner,  has  now  become  a  world-renowned 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FAUST  243 

professor  and  is  engaged  in  a  great  experiment,  namely, 
in  the  production  of  a  chemical  man.  By  the  aid  of 
Mephisto's  magic  the  experiment  is  quickly  brought  to  a 
successful  issue,  and  Homunculus  —  one  of  Goethe's  whim- 
sically delightful  creations  —  emerges  into  being  as  an 
incorporeal  radiant  man  in  a  glass  bottle.  The  wonderful 
little  fellow  at  once  comprehends  Faust's  malady  and  pre- 
scribes that  he  be  taken  to  the  land  of  his  dreams.  So 
away  they  go,  the  three  of  them,  to  the  Classical  Walpurgis 
Night,  which  is  celebrated  annually  on  the  battle-field  of 
Pharsalus  in  Thessaly.  As  soon  as  Faust's  feet  touch 
classic  soil  he  recovers  his  senses  and  sets  out  with  enthu- 
siasm to  find  Helena.  After  some  wandering  about  among 
the  classic  fantoms  he  falls  in  with  Chiron  the  Centaur, 
who  carries  him  far  away  to  the  foot  of  Mount  Olympus 
and  leaves  him  with  the  wise  priestess  Manto,  who  escorts 
him  to  the  Lower  World  and  secures  the  consent  of  Queen 
Persephone  to  a  temporary  reappearance  of  Helena  on 
earth. 

Meanwhile  Mephistopheles,  delighted  to  find  on  classic 
ground  creatures  no  less  ugly  than  those  familiar  to  him 
in  the  far  Northwest,  enters,  seemingly  by  way  of  a  lark, 
into  a  curious  arrangement  with  the  three  daughters  of 
Phorkys.  These  were  imagined  by  the  Greeks  as  hideous 
old  hags  who  lived  in  perpetual  darkness  and  had  one 
eye  and  one  tooth  which  they  used  in  common.  Mephis- 
topheles borrows  the  form,  the  eye,  and  the  tooth  of  a 
Phorkyad  and  transforms  himself  very  acceptably  into  an 
image  of  the  Supreme  Ugliness.  In  that  shape  he-she 
manages  the  fantasmagory  of  the  third  act.  As  for  the 
third  member  of  the  expedition  to  Thessaly,  Homunculus, 
he  is  possessed  by  a  consuming  desire  to  "  begin  exist- 
ence, ' '  that  is,  to  get  a  body  and  become  a  full-fledged  mem- 
ber of  the  genus  Homo.  His  wanderings  in  search  of  the 
best  place  to  begin  take  him  out  into  the^Egean  Sea,  where 
he  is  entranced  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  In  an  ecstasy 
of  prophetic  joy  he  dashes  his  bottle  to  pieces  against  the 


244  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

shell-chariot  of  the  lovely  sea-nymph  Galatea  and  dissolves 
himself  with  the  shining  animalcule  of  the  sea.  There 
he  is  now  —  coming  up  to  the  full  estate  of  manhood  by 
the  various  stages  of  protozoon,  amoaba,  mollusc,  fish,  rep- 
tile, bird,  mammal,  Man.  It  will  take  time,  but  he  has  no 
need  to  hurry. 

Then  follows  the  third  act,  a  classico-romantic  f antasma- 
goria,  in  which  Faust  as  medieval  knight,  ruling  his  multi- 
tudinous -vassals  from  his  castle  in  Arcadia,  the  fabled 
land  of  poetry,  is  wedded  to  the  classic  Queen  of  Beauty. 
It  is  all  very  fantastic,  but  also  very  beautiful  and  marvel- 
ously  pregnant  in  its  symbolism.  But  at  last  the  fair 
illusion  comes  to  an  end.  Euphorion,  the  child  of  Helena 
and  Faust,  the  ethereal,  earth-spurning  Genius  of  Poesy, 
perishes  in  an  attempt  to  fly,  and  his  grief -stricken  mother 
follows  him  back  to  Hades.  Nothing  is  left  to  Faust  but 
a  majestic,  inspiring  memory.  He  gathers  the  robe  of 
Helena  about  him,  and  it  bears  him  aloft  and  carries  him, 
high  up  in  the  air  and  far  above  all  that  is  vulgar,  back 
to  Germany.  His  vehicle  of  cloud  lands  him  on  a  moun- 
tain-summit, where  he  is  soon  joined  by  Mephistopheles, 
who  puts  the  question,  What  next?  We  are  now  at  the 
beginning  of  Act  IV.  Faust  proceeds  to  unfold  a  grand 
scheme  of  conflict  with  the  Sea.  On  his  flight  he  has 
observed  the  tides  eternally  beating  in  upon  the  shore  and 
evermore  receding,  all  to  no  purpose.  This  blind  waste  of 
energy  has  excited  in  him  the  spirit  of  opposition.  He 
proposes  to  fight  the  sea  by  building  dikes  which  shall  hold 
the  rushing  water  in  check  and  make  dry  land  of  the  tide- 
swept  area.  Mephistopheles  enters  readily  into  his  plans. 
They  help  the  Emperor  to  win  a  critical  battle,  and  by  way 
of  reward  Faust  receives  a  vast  tract  of  swampy  sea-shore 
as  his  fief. 

In  Act  V  the  great  scheme  has  all  been  carried  out 
What  was  a  watery  desolation  has  been  converted  into  a 
potential  paradise.  Faust  is  a  great  feudal  lord,  with  a 
boundless  domain  and  a  fleet  of  ships  that  bring  him  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FAUST  245 

riches  of  far-away  lands.  But  thus  far  he  has  simply  been 
amusing  himself  on  a  grand  scale.  He  has  thought  always 
mainly  of  himself.  He  has  courted  experience,  among 
other  things  the  experience  of  putting  forth  his  power  in 
a  contest  with  the  sea  and  performing  a  great  feat  of 
engineering.  But  it  has  not  brought  him  a  satisfaction 
in  which  he  can  rest.  And  he  has  not  become  a  saint. 
An  aged  couple,  who  belong  to  the  old  regime  and  obsti- 
nately refuse  to  part  with  the  little  plot  of  ground  on  which 
they  have  lived  for  years,  anger  him  to  the  point  of  mad- 
ness. He  wants  their  land  so  that  he  may  build  on  it  a 
watch-tower  from  which  to  survey  and  govern  his  posses- 
sions. He  sends  his  servitor  to  remove  them  to  a  better 
home  which  he  has  prepared  for  them.  But  Mephistopheles 
carries  out  the  order  with  reckless  brutality,  with  the  con- 
sequence that  the  old  people  are  killed  and  their  cottage 
burned  to  the  ground.  Thus  Faust  in  his  old  age  —  by 
this  time  he  is  a  hundred  years  old  —  has  a  fresh  burden 
on  his  conscience.  As  he  stands  on  the  balcony  of  his 
palace  at  midnight,  surveying  the  havoc  he  has  uninten- 
tionally wrought,  the  smoke  of  the  burning  cottage  is 
wafted  toward  him  and  takes  the  form  of  four  gray  old 
women.  One  of  them,  Dame  Care,  slips  into  the  rich  man's 
palace  by  way  of  the  keyhole  and  croons  in  his  ear  her 
dismal  litany  of  care.  Faust  replies  in  a  fine  declaration 
of  independence,  beginning  — 

The  circle  of  the  Earth  is  known  to  me, 
What's  on  the  other  side  we  can  not  see. 

As  Dame  Care  leaves  him  she  breathes  on  his  eyelids 
and  makes  him  blind.  But  the  inner  light  is  not  quenched. 
His  hunger  for  life  still  unabated,  he  summons  up  all  his 
energy  and  orders  out  an  army  of  workmen  to  complete 
a  great  undertaking  on  which  he  has  set  his  heart.  On 
the  edge  of  his  domain,  running  along  the  distant  foot- 
hills, is  a  miasmatic  swamp  which  poisons  the  air  and 
renders  the  land  uninhabitable.  He  proposes  to  drain  the 
swamp  and  thus  create  a  home  for  millions  yet  to  come. 


246  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

His  imagination  ranges  forward,  picturing  a  free,  indus- 
trious, self-reliant  people  swarming  on  the  land  that  he 
has  won  from  the  sea  and  made  fit  for  human  uses.  In 
the  ecstasy  of  altruistic  emotion  he  exclaims :  *  *  Such  a 
throng  I  would  fain  see,  standing  with  a  free  people  on  a 
free  soil ;  I  might  say  to  the  passing  moment,  '  Pray  tarry, 
thou  art  so  fair.'  The  traces  of  my  earthly  life  can  not 
pass  away  in  eons."  That  same  instant  he  sinks  back  to 
earth  —  dying. 

Is  there  in  all  literature  anything  finer,  grander,  more 
nobly  conceived  ?  What  follows  —  the  conflict  of  the  angels 
and  devils  for  the  final  possession  of  Faust's  soul  —  need 
not  detain  us  long.  We  know  how  that  will  turn  out. 
Indeed,  the  shrewd  old  Devil,  while  he  goes  through  the 
form  of  making  a  stiff  fight  for  what  he  pretends  to  think 
his  rights,  knows  from  the  first  that  his  is  a  losing  battle. 
While  he  is  watching  the  body  of  Faust  to  see  where  the 
soul  is  going  to  escape,  the  angels  appear  in  a  glory,  bear- 
ing roses  as  their  only  weapon.  With  these  they  put  the 
Devil  and  his  minions  to  rout  and  bear  away  the  dead 
man's  soul  to  the  Holy  Mountain,  singing  their  triumphal 
chant  — 

Wer  imrner  strebend  sich  bemiiht, 
Den  konnen  wir  erlosen. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST 


DRAMATIS  PERSONJE 

Characters  in  the  Prologue  for  the  Theatre. 
THE  MANAGER. 
THH  DRAMATIC  POET. 
MERRYMAN. 

Characters  in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven. 
THE  LORD. 
RAPHAEL  ~] 

GABRIEL     I  The  Heavenly  Host. 
MICHAEL  J 
MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Characters  in  the  Tragedy. 
FAUST. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 
WAGNER,  a  Student. 
MARGARET. 

MARTHA,  Margaret's  Neighbor. 
VALENTINE,  Margaret's  Brother. 
OLD  PEASANT. 
A  STUDENT. 

ELIZABETH,  an  Acquaintance  of  Margaret's. 
FROSCH 

BRANDER 

SIEBEL  *  Guests    'm   Auerbach's   Wine   Cellar. 

ALTMAYER 

Witches,  old  and  young;  Wizards,  Will-o'-the-Wisp,  Witch  Peddler, 
Protophantasmist,  Servibilis,  Monkeys,  Spirits,  Journeymen,  Country- 
folk, Citizens,  Beggar,  Old  Fortune-teller,  Shepherd,  Soldier,  Students, 
etc. 

In  the  Intermezzo. 
OBERON.  ARIEL. 

TITANIA.  PUCK,  ETC.,  ETC. 

[247] 


DEDICATION 

YE  wavering  shapes,  again  ye  do  enfold  me, 

As  erst  upon  my  troubled  sight  ye  stole ; 

Shall  I  this  time  attempt  to  clasp,  to  hold  ye  ? 

Still  for  the  fond  illusion  yearns  my  soul  f 

Ye  press  around !    Come  then,  your  captive  hold  me, 

As  upward  from  the  vapory  mist  ye  roll ; 

Within  my  breast  youth 's  throbbing  pulse  is  bounding, 

Fann'd  by  the  magic  breath  your  march  surrounding. 

Shades  fondly  loved  appear,  your  train  attending, 

And  visions  fair  of  many  a  blissful  day ; 

First-love  and  friendship  their  fond  accents  blending, 

Like  to  some  ancient,  half -expiring  lay ; 

Sorrow  revives,  her  wail  of  anguish  sending 

Back  o'er  life's  devious  labyrinthine  way, 

And  names  the  dear  ones,  they  whom  Fate  bereaving 

Of  life 's  fair  hours,  left  me  behind  them  grieving. 

They  hear  me  not  my  later  cadence  singing, 

The  souls  to  whom  my  earlier  lays  I  sang ; 

Dispersed  the  throng,  their  severed  flight  now  winging; 

Mute  are  the  voices  that  responsive  rang. 

For  stranger  crowds  the  Orphean  lyre  now  stringing, 

E  'en  their  applause  is  to  my  heart  a  pang ; 

Of  old  who  listened  to  my  song,  glad  hearted, 

If  yet  they  live,  now  wander  widely  parted. 

A  yearning  long  unfelt,  each  impulse  swaying, 
To  yon  calm  spirit-realm  uplifts  my  soul ; 
In  faltering  cadence,  as  when  Zephyr  playing, 
Fans  the  ^Eolian  harp,  my  numbers  roll ; 
Tear  follows  tear,  my  steadfast  heart  obeying 
The  tender  impulse,  loses  its  control ; 
What  I  possess  as  from  afar  I  see ; 
Those  I  have  lost  become  realities  to  me. 

[248] 


PROLOGUE  FOR  THE  THEATRE 

MANAGER.    DRAMATIC  POET.    MERRYMAN 

MANAGER 

YE  twain,  in  trouble  and  distress 

True  friends  whom  I  so  oft  have  found, 

Say,  for  our  scheme  on  German  ground, 

What  prospect  have  we  of  success? 

Fain  would  I  please  the  public,  win  their  thanks ; 

They  live  and  let  live,  hence  it  is  but  meet. 

The  posts  are  now  erected,  and  the  planks, 

And  all  look  forward  to  a  festal  treat. 

Their  places  taken,  they,  with  eyebrows  rais  'd, 

Sit  patiently,  and  fain  would  be  amaz'd. 

I  know  the  art  to  hit  the  public  taste, 

Yet  ne  'er  of  failure  felt  so  keen  a  dread ; 

True,  they  are  not  accustomed  to  the  best, 

But  then  appalling  the  amount  they've  read. 

How  make  our  entertainment  striking,  new, 

And  yet  significant  and  pleasing  too  I 

For  to  be  plain,  I  love  to  see  the  throng, 

As  to  our  booth  the  living  tide  progresses ; 

As  wave  on  wave  successive  rolls  along, 

And  through  heaven's  narrow  portal  forceful  presses; 

Still  in  broad  daylight,  ere  the  clock  strikes  four, 

With  blows  their  way  toward  the  box  they  take ; 

And,  as  for  bread  in  famine,  at  the  baker's  door, 

For  tickets  are  content  their  necks  to  break. 

Such  various  minds  the  bard  alone  can  sway, 

My  friend,  oh  work  this  miracle  today ! 

POET 

Oh  of  the  motley  throng  speak  not  before  me, 
At  whose  aspect  the  Spirit  wings  its  flight ! 
Conceal  the  surging  concourse,  I  implore  thee, 
Whose  vortex  draws  us  with  resistless  might. 

[249] 


250  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

No,  to  some  peaceful  heavenly  nook  restore  me, 
Where  only  for  the  bard  blooms  pure  delight, 
Where  love  and  friendship  yield  their  choicest  blessing, 
Our  heart's  true  bliss,  with  godlike  hand  caressing. 

What  in  the  spirit's  depths  was  there  created, 
What  shyly  there  the  lip  shaped  forth  in  sound; 
A  failure  now,  with  words  now  fitly  mated, 
In  the  wild  tumult  of  the  hour  is  drown 'd; 
Full  oft  the  poet's  thought  for  years  hath  waited 
Until  at  length  with  perfect  form  'tis  crowned; 
What  dazzles,  for  the  moment  born,  must  perish ; 
What  genuine  is  posterity  will  cherish. 

MEEBYMAN 

This  cant  about  posterity  I  hate ; 

About  posterity  were  I  to  prate, 

Who  then  the  living  would  amuse?    For  they 

Will  have  diversion,  ay,  and  'tis  their  due. 

A  sprightly  fellow's  presence  at  your  play, 

Methinks  should  also  count  for  something  too; 

Whose  genial  wit  the  audience  still  inspires, 

Knows  from  their  changeful  mood  no  angry  feeling; 

A  wider  circle  he  desires, 

To  their  heart's  depths  more  surely  thus  appealing. 

To  work,  then !    Give  a  master-piece,  my  friend ; 

Bring  Fancy  with  her  choral  trains  before  us, 

Sense,  reason,  feeling,  passion,  but  attend! 

Let  folly  also  swell  the  tragic  chorus. 

MANAGER 

In  chief,  of  incident  enough  prepare ! 

A  show  they  want,  they  come  to  gape  and  stare. 

Spin  for  their  eyes  abundant  occupation, 

So  that  the  multitude  may  wondering  gaze, 

You  by  sheer  bulk  have  won  your  reputation, 

The  man  you  are  all  love  to  praise. 

By  mass  alone  can  you  subdue  the  masses, 

Each  then  selects  in  time  what  suits  his  bent. 

Bring  much,  you  something  bring  for  various  classes, 


FAUST  —  PROLOGUE  251 

And  from  the  house  goes  every  one  content. 
You  give  a  piece,  abroad  in  pieces  send  it! 
'Tis  a  ragout  —  success  must  needs  attend  it; 
'Tis  easy  to  serve  up,  as  easy  to  invent. 
A  finish 'd  whole  what  boots  it  to  present! 
Full  soon  the  public  will  in  pieces  rend  it. 

POET 

How  mean  such  handicraft  as  this  you  cannot  feel ! 
How  it  revolts  the  genuine  artist's  mind! 
The  sorry  trash  in  which  these  coxcombs  deal, 
Is  here  approved  on  principle,  I  find. 

MANAGER 

Such  a  reproof  disturbs  me  not  a  whit! 

Who  on  efficient  work  is  bent, 

Must  choose  the  fittest  instrument. 

Consider!  'tis  soft  wood  you  have  to  split; 

Think  too  for  whom  you  write,  I  pray ! 

One  comes  to  while  an  hour  away; 

One  from  the  festive  board,  a  sated  guest; 

Others,  more  dreaded  than  the  rest, 

From  journal-reading  hurry  to  the  play. 

As  to  a  masquerade,  with  absent  minds,  they  press, 

Sheer  curiosity  their  footsteps  winging; 

Ladies  display  their  persons  and  their  dress, 

Actors  unpaid  their  service  bringing. 

What  dreams  beguile  you  on  your  poet's  height? 

What  puts  a  full  house  in  a  merry  mood  I 

More  closely  view  your  patrons  of  the  night ! 

The  half  are  cold,  the  half  are  rude. 

One,  the  play  over,  craves  a  game  of  cards; 

Another  a  wild  night  in  wanton  joy  would  spend. 

Poor  fools  the  muses'  fair  regards 

Why  court  for  such  a  paltry  end? 

I  tell  you,  give  them  more,  still  more,  'tis  all  I  ask, 

Thus  you  will  ne  'er  stray  widely  from  the  goal ; 

Your  audience  seek  to  mystify,  cajole ;  — 

To  satisfy  them  —  that 's  a  harder  task. 

What  ails  thee?  art  enraptured  or  distressed! 


252  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

POET 

Depart!  elsewhere  another  servant  choose. 

What !  shall  the  bard  his  godlike  power  abuse  ? 

Man's  loftiest  right,  kind  nature's  high  bequest, 

For  your  mean  purpose  basely  sport  away? 

Whence  comes  his  mastery  o  'er  the  human  breast, 

Whence  o'er  the  elements  his  sway, 

But  from  the  harmony  that,  gushing  from  his  soul, 

Draws  back  into  his  heart  the  wondrous  whole  ? 

With  careless  hand  when  round  her  spindle,  Nature 

Winds  the  interminable  thread  of  life ; 

When  'mid  the  clash  of  Being  every  creature 

Mingles  in  harsh  inextricable  strife ; 

Who  deals  their  course  unvaried  till  it  falleth, 

In  rhythmic  flow  to  music's  measur'd  tone? 

Each  solitary  note  whose  genius  calleth, 

To  swell  the  mighty  choir  in  unison  ? 

Who  in  the  raging  storm  sees  passion  low 'ring? 

Or  flush  of  earnest  thought  in  evening's  glow? 

Who  every  blossom  in  sweet  spring-time  flowering 

Along  the  loved  one's  path  would  strow? 

Who,  Nature's  green  familiar  leaves  entwining, 

Wreathes  glory's  garland,  won  on  every  field? 

Makes  sure  Olympus,  heavenly  powers  combining? 

Man's  mighty  spirit,  in  the  bard  re  veal 'd! 

MEEEYMAN 

Come  then,  employ  your  lofty  inspiration, 

And  carry  on  the  poet 's  avocation, 

Just  as  we  carry  on  a  love  affair. 

Two  meet  by  chance,  are  pleased,  they  linger  there, 

Insensibly  are  link'd,  they  scarce  know  how; 

Fortune  seems  now  propitious,  adverse  now, 

Then  come  alternate  rapture  and  despair; 

And  'tis  a  true  romance  ere  one's  aware. 

Just  such  a  drama  let  us  now  compose. 

Plunge  boldly  into  life  —  its  depths  disclose! 


FAUST  —  PROLOGUE  253 

Each  lives  it,  not  to  many  is  it  known, 

'Twill  interest  wheresoever  seiz'd  and  shown; 

Bright  pictures,  but  obscure  their  meaning: 

A  ray  of  truth  through  error  gleaming, 

Thus  you  the  best  elixir  brew, 

To  charm  mankind,  and  edify  them  too. 

Then  youth's  fair  blossoms  crowd  to  view  your  play. 

And  wait  as  on  an  oracle;  while  they, 

The  tender  souls,  who  love  the  melting  mood, 

Suck  from  your  work  their  melancholy  food ; 

Now  this  one,  and  now  that,  you  deeply  stir, 

Each  sees  the  working  of  his  heart  laid  bare. 

Their  tears,  their  laughter,  you  command  with  ease, 

The  lofty  still  they  honor,  the  illusive  love. 

Your  finish 'd  gentlemen  you  ne'er  can  please; 

A  growing  mind  alone  will  grateful  prove. 

POET 

Then  give  me  back  youth's  golden  prime, 
When  my  own  spirit  too  was  growing, 
When  from  my  heart  th'  unbidden  rhyme 
Gush'd  forth,  a  fount  for  ever  flowing; 
Then  shadowy  mist  the  world  conceal 'd, 
And  every  bud  sweet  promise  made, 
Of  wonders  yet  to  be  reveal 'd, 
As  through  the  vales,  with  blooms  inlaid, 
Culling  a  thousand  flowers  I  stray 'd. 
Naught  had  I,  yet  a  rich  profusion! 
The  thirst  for  truth,  joy  in  each  fond  illusion. 
Give  me  unquell'd  those  impulses  to  prove;  — 
Rapture  so  deep,  its  ecstasy  was  pain, 
The  power  of  hate,  the  energy  of  love, 
Give  me,  oh  give  me  back  my  youth  again ! 

MERRYMAN 

Youth,  my  good  friend,  you  certainly  require 
When  foes  in  battle  round  are  pressing, 
When  a  fair  maid,  her  heart  on  fire, 


254  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Hangs  on  your  neck  with  fond  caressing, 
When  from  afar,  the  victor 's  crown, 
To  reach  the  hard-won  goal  inciteth; 
When  from  the  whirling  dance,  to  drown 
Your  sense,  the  nights  carouse  inviteth. 
But  the  familiar  chords  among 
Boldly  to  sweep,  with  graceful  cunning, 
While  to  its  goal,  the  verse  along 
Its  winding  path  is  sweetly  running; 
This  task  is  yours,  old  gentlemen,  today ; 
Nor  are  you  therefore  less  in  reverence  held; 
Age  does  not  make  us  childish,  as  folk  say, 
It  finds  us  genuine  children  e  'en  in  eld. 

MANAGER 

A  truce  to  words,  mere  empty  sound, 

Let  deeds  at  length  appear,  my  friends ! 

While  idle  compliments  you  round, 

You  might  achieve  some  useful  ends. 

Why  talk  of  the  poetic  vein  ? 

Who  hesitates  will  never  know  it ; 

If  bards  ye  are,  as  ye  maintain, 

Now  let  your  inspiration  show  it. 

To  you  is  known  what  we  require, 

Strong  drink  to  sip  is  our  desire ; 

Come,  brew  me  such  without  delay! 

Tomorrow  sees  undone,  what  happens  not  today; 

Still  forward  press,  nor  ever  tire ! 

The  possible,  with  steadfast  trust, 

Resolve  should  by  the  forelock  grasp ; 

Then  she  will  ne  'er  let  go  her  clasp, 

And  labors  on,  because  she  must. 

On  German  boards,  you  're  well  aware, 

The  taste  of  each  may  have  full  sway ; 

Therefore  in  bringing  out  your  play, 

Nor  scenes  nor  mechanism  spare ! 


FAUST  —  PROLOGUE 


255 


Heaven's  lamps  employ,  the  greatest  and  the  least, 

Be  lavish  of  the  stellar  lights, 

Water,  and  fire,  and  rocky  heights, 

Spare  not  at  all,  nor  birds,  nor  beast. 

Thus  let  creation's  ample  sphere 

Forthwith  in  this  our  narrow  booth  appear, 

And  with  considerate  speed,  through  fancy's  spell, 

Journey  from  heaven,  thence  through  the  world,  to  helll 


PROLOGUE  IN  HEAVEN 
THE  LORD.    THE  HEAVENLY  HOSTS.    Afterward  MEPHIS- 

TOPHELES 

The  three  Archangels  come  forward 

t  RAPHAEL 

THE  Sun,  in  ancient  guise,  competing 
With  brother  spheres  in  rival  song, 
With  thunder-march,  his  orb  completing, 
Moves  his  predestin'd  course  along; 
His  aspect  to  the  powers  supernal 
Gives  strength,  though  fathom  him  none  may ; 
Transcending  thought,  the  works  eternal 
Are  fair  as  on  the  primal  day. 

GABRIEL 

With  speed,  thought  baffling,  unabating, 
Earth's  splendor  whirls  in  circling  flight; 
Its  Eden-brightness  alternating 
With  solemn,  awe-inspiring  night ; 
Ocean's  'broad  waves  in  wild  commotion, 
Against  the  rocks '  deep  base  are  hurled ; 
And  with  the  spheres,  both  rock  and  ocean 
Eternally  are  swiftly  whirled. 

MICHAEL 

And  tempests  roar  in  emulation 
From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to  sea, 
And  raging  form,  without  cessation, 
A  chain  of  wondrous  agency, 
Full  in  the  thunder 's  path  careering, 
Flaring  the  swift  destructions  play ; 
But,  Lord,  Thy  servants  are  revering 
The  mild  procession  of  thy  day. 

[256] 


FAUST  —  PROLOGUE  257 

THE  THBEE 

Thine  aspect  to  the  powers  supernal 

Gives  strength,  though  fathom  thee  none  may; 

And  all  thy  works,  sublime,  eternal, 

Are  fair  as  on  the  primal  day. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Since  thou,  0  Lord,  approachest  us  once  more, 

And  how  it  fares  with  us,  to  ask  art  fain, 

Since  thou  hast  kindly  welcomed  me  of  yore, 

Thou  see'st  me  also  now  among  thy  train. 

Excuse  me,  fine  harangues  I  cannot  make, 

Though  all  the  circle  look  on  me  with  scorn ; 

My  pathos  soon  thy  laughter  would  awake, 

Hadst  thou  the  laughing  mood  not  long  forsworn. 

Of  suns  and  worlds  I  nothing  have  to  say, 

I  see  alone  mankind's  self -torturing  pains. 

The  little  world-god  still  the  self-same  stamp  retains, 

And  is  as  wondrous  now  as  on  the  primal  day. 

Better  he  might  have  fared,  poor  wight, 

Hadst  thou  not  given  him  a  gleam  of  heavenly  light ; 

Reason  he  names  it,  and  doth  so 

Use  it,  than  brutes  more  brutish  still  to  grow. 

With  deference  to  your  grace,  he  seems  to  me 

Like  any  long-legged  grasshopper  to  be, 

Which  ever  flies,  and  flying  springs, 

And  in  the  grass  its  ancient  ditty  sings. 

Would  he  but  always  in  the  grass  repose! 

In  every  heap  of  dung  he  thrusts  his  nose. 

THE  LORD 

Hast  thou  naught  else  to  say?    Is  blame 

In  coming  here,  as  ever,  thy  sole  aim! 

Does  nothing  on  the  earth  to  thee  seem  right? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No,  Lord !    I  find  things  there,  as  ever,  in  sad  plight. 
Men,  in  their  evil  days,  move  my  compassion ; 
Such  sorry  things  to  plague  is  nothing  worth. 
VOL.  1  —  17 


258  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  doctor? 

THE  LORD 

Right. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

He  serves  thee  truly  in  a  wondrous  fashion. 
Poor  fool !    His  food  and  drink  are  not  of  earth. 
An  inward  impulse  hurries  him  afar, 
Himself  half  conscious  of  his  frenzied  mood ; 
From  heaven  claimeth  he  the  fairest  star, 
And  from  the  earth  craves  every  highest  good, 
And  all  that's  near,  and  all  that's  far, 
Fails  to  allay  the  tumult  in  his  blood. 

THE  LORD 

Though  in  perplexity  he  serves  me  now, 
I  soon  will  lead  him  where  more  light  appears ; 
When  buds  the  sapling,  doth  the  gardener  know 
That  flowers  and  fruit  will  deck  the  coming  years? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  wilt  thou  wager?    Him  thou  yet  shall  lose, 
If  leave  to  me  thou  wilt  but  give, 
Gently  to  lead  him  as  I  choose ! 

THE  LORD 

So  long  as  he  on  earth  doth  live, 

So  long  'tis  not  forbidden  thee. 

Man  still  must  err,  while  he  doth  strive. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  thank  you ;  for  not  willingly 

I  traffic  with  the  dead,  and  still  aver 

That  youth's  plump  blooming  cheek  I  very  much  prefer. 

I'm  not  at  home  to  corpses;  'tis  my  way, 

Like  cats  with  captive  mice  to  toy  and  play. 


FAUST  —  PROLOGUE  259 

THE  LORD 

Enough !  'tis  granted  thee !    Divert 

This  mortal  spirit  from  his  primal  source; 

Him,  canst  thou  seize,  thy  power  exert 

And  lead  him  on  thy  downward  course, 

Then  stand  abash  'd,  when  thou  perforce  must  own, 

A  good  man  in  his  darkest  aberration, 

Of  the  right  path  is  conscious  still. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

>Tis  done !    Full  soon  thou  'It  see  my  exultation ; 
As  for  my  bet  no  fears  I  entertain. 
And  if  my  end  I  finally  should  gain, 
Excuse  my  triumphing  with  all  my  soul. 
Dust  he  shall  eat,  ay,  and  with  relish  take, 
As  did  my  cousin,  the  renowned  snake. 

THE  LORD 

Here  too  thou'rt  free  to  act  without  control; 

I  ne  'er  have  cherished  hate  for  such  as  thee. 

Of  all  the  spirits  who  deny, 

The  scoffer  is  least  wearisome  to  me. 

Ever  too  prone  is  man  activity  to  shirk, 

In  unconditioned  rest  he  fain  would  live ; 

Hence  this  companion  purposely  I  give, 

Who  stirs,  excites,  and  must,  as  devil,  work. 

But  ye,  the  genuine  sons  of  heaven,  rejoice ! 

In  the  full  living  beauty  still  rejoice ! 

May  that  which  works  and  lives,  the  ever-growing, 

In  bonds  of  love  enfold  you,  mercy-fraught, 

And  Seeming 's  changeful  forms,  around  you  flowing, 

Do  ye  arrest,  in  ever-during  thought ! 

[Heaven  closes,  the  Archangels  disperse.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (alone) 

The  ancient  one  I  like  sometimes  to  see, 
And  not  to  break  with  him  am  always  civil ; 
'Tis  courteous  in  so  great  a  lord  as  he, 
To  speak  so  kindly  even  to  the  devil. 


260  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST— PART  I  (1808)* 

TRANSLATED  BY   ANNA   SWAN  WICK 

NIGHT 

A  high  vaulted  narrow  Gothic  chamber. 
FAUST,  restless,  seated  at  his  desk. 

FAUST 

[HAVE,  alas!  Philosophy, 

Medicine,  Jurisprudence  too, 
And  to  my  cost  Theology, 
With  ardent  labor,  studied  through. 
And  here  I  stand,  with  all  my  lore, 

Poor  fool,  no  wiser  than  before. 

Magister,  doctor  styled,  indeed, 

Already  these  ten  years  I  lead, 

Up,  down,  across,  and  to  and  fro, 

My  pupils  by  the  nose, —  and  learn, 

That  we  in  truth  can  nothing  know ! 

That  in  my  heart  like  fire  doth  burn. 

'Tis  true,  I've  more  cunning  than  all  your  dull  tribe, 

Magister  and  doctor,  priest,  parson,  and  scribe; 

Scruple  or  doubt  comes  not  to  enthrall  me, 

Neither  can  devil  nor  hell  now  appal  me  — 

Hence  also  my  heart  must  all  pleasure  forego  1 

I  may  not  pretend  aught  rightly  to  know, 

I  may  not  pretend,  through  teaching,  to  find 

A  means  to  improve  or  convert  mankind. 

Then  I  have  neither  goods  nor  treasure, 

No  worldly  honor,  rank,  or  pleasure; 

No  dog  in  such  fashion  would  longer  live  I 

Therefore  myself  to  magic  I  give, 

In  hope,  through  spirit-voice  and  might, 

Secrets  now  veiled  to  bring  to  light, 

That  I  no  more,  with  aching  brow, 

Need  speak  of  what  I  nothing  know ; 

*  Permission  The  Macmillan  Co.,  New  York,  and  G.  Bell  and  Sons,  Ltd., 
London. 


FAUST  — PART  I  261 


That  I  the  force  may  recognize 
That  binds  creation's  inmost  energies; 
Her  vital  powers,  her  embryo  seeds  survey, 
And  fling  the  trade  in  empty  words  away. 
0  full-orb  'd  moon,  did  but  thy  rays 
Their  last  upon  mine  anguish  gaze ! 
Beside  this  desk,  at  dead  of  night, 
Oft  have  I  watched  to  hail  thy  light : 
Then,  pensive  friend!  o'er  book  and  scroll, 
With  soothing  power,  thy  radiance  stole! 
In  thy  dear  light,  ah,  might  I  climb, 
Freely,  some  mountain  height  sublime, 
Round  mountain  caves  with  spirits  ride, 
In  thy  mild  haze  o'er  meadows  glide, 
And,  purged  from  knowledge-fumes,  renew 
My  spirit,  in  thy  healing  dew! 

Woe's  me!  still  prison 'd  in  the  gloom 
Of  this  abhorr'd  and  musty  room! 
Where  heaven's  dear  light  itself  doth  pass 
But  dimly  through  the  painted  glass ! 
Hemmed  in  by  book-heaps,  piled  around, 
Worm-eaten,  hid  'neath  dust  and  mold, 
Which  to  the  high  vault's  topmast  bound, 
A  smoke-stained  paper  doth  enfold ; 
With  boxes  round  thee  piled,  and  glass, 
And  many  a  useless  instrument, 
With  old  ancestral  lumber  blent — 
This  is  thy  world !  a  world !  alas ! 
And  dost  thou  ask  why  heaves  thy  heart, 
With  tighten 'd  pressure  in  thy  breastt 
Why  the  dull  ache  will  not  depart, 
By  which  thy  life-pulse  is  oppress 'dT 
Instead  of  nature's  living  sphere, 
Created  for  mankind  of  old, 
Brute  skeletons  surround  thee  here, 
And  dead  men's  bones  in  smoke  and  mold. 


262  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Up!    Forth  into  the  distant  land! 
Is  not  this  book  of  mystery 
By  Nostradamus'  proper  hand, 
An  all-sufficient  guide?    Thou 'It  see 
The  courses  of  the  stars  unroll 'd; 
When  nature  doth  her  thoughts  unfold 
To  thee,  thy  soul  shall  rise,  and  seek 
Communion  high  with  her  to  hold, 
As  spirit  doth  with  spirit  speak ! 
Vain  by  dull  poring  to  divine 
The  meaning  of  each  hallow 'd  sign. 
Spirits !    I  feel  you  hov  'ring  near ; 
Make  answer,  if  my  voice  ye  hear! 

[He  opens  the  book  and  perceives  the  sign  of  the 
Macrocosmos.] 

Ah!  at  this  spectacle  through  every  sense, 

What  sudden  ecstasy  of  joy  is  flowing ! 

I  feel  new  rapture,  hallow  'd  and  intense, 

Through  every  nerve  and  vein  with  ardor  glowing. 

Was  it  a  god  who  character 'd  this  scroll, 

The  tumult  in  my  spirit  healing, 

0  'er  my  sad  heart  with  rapture  stealing, 

And  by  a  mystic  impulse,  to  my  soul, 

The  powers  of  nature  all  around  revealing. 

Am  I  a  god?    What  light  intense 

In  these  pure  symbols  do  I  see 

Nature  exert  her  vital  energy? 

Now  of  the  wise  man's  words  I  learn  the  sense; 

"  Unlock 'd  the  spirit-world  is  lying, 

Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead! 

Up  scholar,  lave,  with  zeal  undying, 

Thine  earthly  breast  in  the  morning-red!" 

[He  contemplates  the  sign.] 

How  all  things  live  and  work,  and  ever  blending, 
Weave  one  vast  whole  from  Being's  ample  range! 
How  powers  celestial,  rising  and  descending, 


FAUST  — PART  I  263 

Their  golden  buckets  ceaseless  interchange ! 
Their  flight  on  rapture-breathing  pinions  winging, 
From  heaven  to  earth  their  genial  influence  bringing, 
Through  the  wild  sphere  their  chimes  melodious  ringing ! 

A  wondrous  show!  but  ah!  a  show  alone! 

Where  shall  I  grasp  thee,  infinite  nature,  where! 

Ye  breasts,  ye  fountains  of  all  life,  whereon 

Hang  heaven  and  earth,  from  which  the  withered  heart 

For  solace  yearns,  ye  still  impart 

Your  sweet  and  fostering  tides — where  are  ye — where! 

Ye  gush,  and  must  I  languish  in  despair? 

[He  turns  over  the  leaves  of  the  book  impatiently,  and 
perceives  the  sign  of  the  Earth-spirit.] 

How  all  unlike  the  influence  of  this  sign! 

Earth-spirit,  thou  to  me  art  nigher, 

E  'en  now  my  strength  is  rising  higher, 

E  'en  now  I  glow  as  with  new  wine ; 

Courage  I  feel,  abroad  the  world  to  dare, 

The  woe  of  earth,  the  bliss  of  earth  to  bear, 

With  storms  to  wrestle,  brave  the  lightning's  glare, 

And  mid  the  crashing  shipwreck  not  despair. 

Clouds  gather  over  me  — 

The  moon  conceals  her  light  — 

The  lamp  is  quench 'd — 

Vapors  are  arising — Quiv'ring  round  my  head 

Flash  the  red  beams  — Down  from  the  vaulted  roof 

A  shuddering  horror  floats, 

And  seizes  me ! 

I  feel  it,  spirit,  prayer-compelPd,  'tis  thou 

Art  hovering  near ! 

Unveil  thyself! 

Ha !    How  my  heart  is  riven  now ! 

Each  sense,  with  eager  palpitation, 

Is  strain 'd  to  catch  some  new  sensation! 


264  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

I  feel  my  heart  surrender 'd  unto  thee! 
Thou  must!    Thou  must!    Though  life  should  be  the  fee! 
[He  seizes  the  book,  and  pronounces  mysteriously  the 
sign  of  the  spirit.   A  ruddy  flame  flashes  up;  the 
spirit  appears  in  the  flame.] 

SPIRIT 
Who  calls  me? 

FAUstf  (turning  aside) 
Dreadful  shape! 

SPIRIT 

With  might, 

Thou  hast  compell'd  me  to  appear, 
Long  hast  been  sucking  at  my  sphere, 
And  now — 

FAUST 

Woe's  me!    I  cannot  bear  thy  sight! 

SPIRIT 

To  see  me  thou  dost  breathe  thine  invocation, 
My  voice  to  hear,  to  gaze  upon  my  brow ; 
Me  doth  thy  strong  entreaty  bow  — 
Lo !  I  am  here !  —  What  cowering  agitation 
Grasps  thee,  the  demigod!    Where's  now  the  soul's  deep 

cry? 

Where  is  the  breast,  which  in  its  depths  a  world  conceiv'd, 
And  bore  and  cherished?  which,  with  ecstasy, 
To  rank  itself  with  us,  the  spirits,  heaved? 
Where  art  thou,  Faust?    Whose  voice  heard  I  resound 
Who  toward  me  press 'd  with  energy  profound? 
Art  thou  he  ?    Thou, —  who  by  my  breath  art  blighted, 
Who,  in  his  spirit's  depths  affrighted, 
Trembles,  a  crush 'd  and  writhing  worm! 

FAUST 

Shall  I  yield,  thing  of  flame,  to  theeT 
Faust,  and  thine  equal,  I  am  he  I 


FAUST  — PART  I  265 

SPIRIT 

In  the  currents  of  life,  in  action's  storm, 

I  float  and  I  wave 

With  billowy  motion! 

Birth  and  the  grave, 

0  limitless  ocean, 

A  constant  weaving 

With  change  still  rife, 

A  restless  heaving, 

A  glowing  life  — 

Thus  time's  whirring  loom  unceasing  I  ply, 
And  weave  the  life-garment  of  deity. 

FAUST 

Thou,  restless  spirit,  dost  from  end  to  end 
O'ersweep  the  world;  how  near  I  feel  to  thee! 

SPIRIT 

Thou'rt  like  the  spirit,  thou  dost  comprehend, 
Not  me!  [Vanishes.] 

FAUST  (deeply  moved) 
Not  thee? 
Whom  then? 
I,  God's  own  image! 

And  not  rank  with  thee!  [A  knock.} 

Oh  death !    I  know  it — 'tis  my  famulus  — 
My  fairest  fortune  now  escapes ! 
That  all  these  visionary  shapes 
A  soulless  groveller  should  banish  thus ! 

[WAGNER  wi  his  dressing  gown  and  night-cap,  a  lamp 
in  his  hand.    FAUST  turns  round  reluctantly.] 

WAGNER 

Pardon!    I  heard  you  here  declaim; 
A  Grecian  tragedy  you  doubtless  read? 
Improvement  in  this  art  is  now  my  aim, 
For  now-a-days  it  much  avails.    Indeed 
An  actor,  oft  I've  heard  it  said,  as  teacher, 
May  give  instruction  to  a  preacher. 


266  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

Ay,  if  your  priest  should  be  an  actor  too, 
As  not  improbably  may  come  to  pass. 

WAGNER 

When  in  his  study  pent  the  whole  year  through, 
Man  views  the  world,  as  through  an  optic  glass, 
On  a  chance  holiday,  and  scarcely  then, 

How  by  persuasion  c.an  he  govern  men? 

f 

FAUST 

If  feeling  prompt  not,  if  it  doth  not  flow 

Fresh  from  the  spirit's  depths,  with  strong  control 

Swaying  to  rapture  every  listener's  soul, 

Idle  your  toil ;  the  chase  you  may  forego ! 

Brood  o'er  your  task!    Together  glue, 

Cook  from  another's  feast  your  own  ragout, 

Still  prosecute  your  paltry  game, 

And  fan  your  ash-heaps  into  flame ! 

Thus  children's  wonder  you'll  excite, 

And  apes ',  if  such  your  appetite ; 

But  that  which  issues  from  the  heart  alone, 

Will  bend  the  hearts  of  others  to  your  own. 

WAGNEB 

The  speaker  in  delivery  will  find 
Success  alone ;  I  still  am  far  behind. 

FAUST 

A  worthy  object  still  pursue ! 

Be  not  a  hollow  tinkling  fool ! 

Sound  understanding,  judgment  true, 

Find  utterance  without  art  or  rule ; 

And  when  in  earnest  you  are  moved  to  speak, 

Then  is  it  needful  cunning  words  to  seek? 

Your  fine  harangues,  so  polish 'd  in  their  kind, 

Wherein  the  shreds  of  human  thought  ye  twist, 

Are  unrefreshing  as  the  empty  wind, 

Whistling  through  wither 'd  leaves  and  autumn  mist  I 


FAUST  — PARTI  267 

WAGNEB 

Oh  God !    How  long  is  art, 

Our  life  how  short !    With  earnest  zeal 

Still  as  I  ply  the  critic's  task,  I  feel 

A  strange  oppression  both  of  head  and  heart. 

The  very  means  —  how  hardly  are  they  won, 

By  which  we  to  the  fountains  rise ! 

And,  haply,  ere  one  half  the  course  is  run, 

Check 'd  in  his  progress,  the  poor  devil  dies. 

FAUST 

Parchment,  is  that  the  sacred  fount  whence  roll 
Waters  he  thirsteth  not  who  once  hath  quaffed ! 
Oh,  if  it  gush  not  from  thine  inmost  soul, 
Thou  hast  not  won  the  life-restoring  draught. 

WAGNER 

Your  pardon !  'tis  delightf ul  to  transport 
Oneself  into  the  spirit  of  the  past, 
To  see  in  times  before  us  how  a  wise  man  thought, 
And  what  a  glorious  height  we  have  achieved  at  last. 

FAUST 

Ay,  truly !  even  to  the  loftiest  star ! 

To  us,  my  friend,  the  ages  that  are  pass'd 

A  book  with  seven  seals,  close-fasten 'd,  are; 

And  what  the  spirit  of  the  times  men  call, 

Is  merely  their  own  spirit  after  all, 

Wherein,  distorted  oft,  the  times  are  glass 'd. 

Then  truly,  'tis  a  sight  to  grieve  the  soul! 

At  the  first  glance  we  fly  it  in  dismay ; 

A  very  lumber-room,  a  rubbish-hole; 

At  best  a  sort  of  mock-heroic  play, 

With  saws  pragmatical,  and  maxims  sage, 

To  suit  the  puppets  and  their  mimic  stage. 

WAGNEB 

But  then  the  world  and  man,  his  heart  and  brain! 
Touching  these  things  all  men  would  something  know. 


268  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

Ay !  what  'mong  men  as  knowledge  doth  obtain ! 
Who  on  the  child  its  true  name  dares  bestow? 
The  few  who  somewhat  of  these  things  have  known, 
Who  their  full  hearts  unguardedly  reveal 'd, 
Nor  thoughts,  nor  feelings,  from  the  mob  conceal 'd, 
Have  died  on  crosses,  or  in  flames  been  thrown. — 
Excuse  me,  friend^  far  now  the  night  is  spent, 
For  this  time  we  must  say  adieu. 

WAGNER 

Still  to  watch  on  I  had  been  well  content, 

Thus  to  converse  so  learnedly  with  you. 

But  as  tomorrow  will  be  Easter-day, 

Some  further  questions  grant,  I  pray; 

With  diligence  to  study  still  I  fondly  cling; 

Already  I  know  much,  but  would  know  everything.     [Exit.] 

FAUST  (alone) 

How  him  alone  all  hope  abandons  never, 
To  empty  trash  who  clings,  with  zeal  untired, 
With  greed  for  treasure  gropes,  and,  joy-inspir'd, 
Exults  if  earth-worms  second  his  endeavor. 

And  dare  a  voice  of  merely  human  birth, 

E'en  here,  where  shapes  immortal  throng 'd,  intrude! 

Yet  ah !  thou  poorest  of  the  sons  of  earth, 

For  once,  I  e'en  to  thee  feel  gratitude. 

Despair  the  power  of  sense  did  well-nigh  blast, 

And  thou  didst  save  me  ere  I  sank  dismay 'd; 

So  giant-like  the  vision  seem'd,  so  vast, 

I  felt  myself  shrink  dwarf 'd  as  I  survey 'd! 

I,  God's  own  image,  from  this  toil  of  clay 
Already  freed,  with  eager  joy  who  hail'd 
The  mirror  of  eternal  truth  unveil  'd, 
Mid  light  effulgent  and  celestial  day: — 
I,  more  than  cherub,  whose  unfetter'd  soul 
With  penetrative  glance  aspir'd  to  flow 
Through  nature's  veins,  and,  still  creating,  know 


FAUST  — PART  I  269 

The  life  of  gods, —  how  am  I  punish 'd  now  I 

One  thunder-word  hath  hurl'd  me  from  the  goal  I 

Spirit !  I  dare  not  lift  me  to  thy  sphere. 

What  though  my  power  compelPd  thee  to  appear, 

My  art  was  powerless  to  detain  thee  here. 

In  that  great  moment,  rapture-fraught, 

I  felt  myself  so  small,  so  great ; 

Fiercely  didst  thrust  me  from  the  realm  of  thought 

Back  on  humanity's  uncertain  fate  I 

Who'll  teach  me  now!    What  ought  I  to  forego? 

Ought  I  that  impulse  to  obey! 

Alas !  our  every  deed,  as  well  as  every  woe, 

Impedes  the  tenor  of  life's  onward  way! 

E'en  to  the  noblest  by  the  soul  conceiv'd, 
Some  feelings  cling  of  baser  quality; 
And  when  the  goods  of  this  world  are  achiev'd, 
Each  nobler  aim  is  term'd  a  cheat,  a  lie. 
Our  aspirations,  our  soul's  genuine  life, 
Grow  torpid  in  the  din  of  earthly  strife. 

Though  youthful  phantasy,  while  hope  inspires, 
Stretch  o  'er  the  infinite  her  wing  sublime, 
A  narrow  compass  limits  her  desires, 
When  wreck 'd  our  fortunes  in  the  gulf  of  time. 
In  the  deep  heart  of  man  care  builds  her  nest, 
O'er  secret  woes  she  broodeth  there, 
Sleepless  she  rocks  herself  and  scareth  joy  and  rest; 
Still  is  she  wont  some  new  disguise  to  wear  — 
She  may  as  house  and  court,  as  wife  and  child  appear, 
As  dagger,  poison,  fire  and  flood; 
Imagined  evils  chill  thy  blood, 

And  what  thou  ne'er  shalt  lose,  o'er  that  dost  shed 
the  tear. 

I  am  not  like  the  gods !    Feel  it  I  must ; 
I'm  like  the  earth-worm,  writhing  in  the  dust, 
Which,  as  on  dust  it  feeds,  its  native  fare, 
Crushed  'neath  the  passer's  tread,  lies  buried  there. 


270  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Is  it  not  dust,  wherewith  this  lofty  wall, 

With  hundred  shelves,  confines  me  round ; 

Rubbish,  in  thousand  shapes,  may  I  not  call 

What  in  this  moth-world  doth  my  being  bound? 

Here,  what  doth  fail  me,  shall  I  find? 

Read  in  a  thousand  tomes  that,  everywhere, 

Self-torture  is  the  lot  of  human-kind, 

With  but  one  mprtal  happy,  here  and  there  ? 

Thou  hollow  skull,  that  grin,  what  should  it  say, 

But  that  thy  brain,  like  mine,  of  old  perplexed, 

Still  yearning  for  the  truth,  hath  sought  the  light  of  day, 

And  in  the  twilight  wandered,  sorely  vexed? 

Ye  instruments,  forsooth,  ye  mock  at  me, — 

With  wheel,  and  cog,  and  ring,  and  cylinder; 

To  nature 's  portals  ye  should  be  the  key ; 

Cunning  your  wards,  and  yet  the  bolts  ye  fail  to  stir. 

Inscrutable  in  broadest  light, 

To  be  unveil 'd  by  force  she  doth  refuse, 

What  she  reveals  not  to  thy  mental  sight 

Thou  wilt  not  wrest  from  her  with  levers  and  with  screws. 

Old  useless  furnitures,  yet  stand  ye  here, 

Because  my  sire  ye  served,  now  dead  and  gone. 

Old  scroll,  the  smoke  of  years  dost  wear, 

So  long  as  o'er  this  desk  the  sorry  lamp  hath  shone. 

Better  my  little  means  hath  squandered  quite  away 

Than  burden 'd  by  that  little  here  to  sweat  and  groan! 

Wouldst  thou  possess  thy  heritage,  essay 

By  use  to  render  it  thine  own! 

What  we  employ  not  but  impedes  our  way ; 

That  which  the  hour  creates,  that  can  it  use  alone  I 

But  wherefore  to  yon  spot  is  riveted  my  gaze? 

Is  yonder  flasket  there  a  magnet  to  my  sight  ? 

Whence  this  mild  radiance  that  around  me  plays, 

As  when,  'mid  forest  gloom,  reigneth  the  moon's  soft  light? 

Hail,  precious  phial !    Thee,  with  reverent  awe, 

Down  from  thine  old  receptacle  I  draw! 

Science  in  thee  I  hail  and  human  art. 


FAUST  — PAKT  I  271 

Essence  of  deadliest  powers,  refin'd  and  sure, 
Of  soothing  anodynes  abstraction  pure, 
Now  in  thy  master's  need  thy  grace  impart! 
I  gaze  on  thee,  my  pain  is  lull'd  to  rest; 
I  grasp  thee,  calm'd  the  tumult  in  my  breast; 
The  flood-tide  of  my  spirit  ebbs  away ; 
Onward  I'm  summon 'd  o'er  a  boundless  main, 
Calm  at  my  feet  expands  the  glassy  plain, 
To  shores  unknown  allures  a  brighter  day. 

Lo,  where  a  car  of  fire,  on  airy  pinion, 

Comes  floating  towards  me!    I'm  prepar'd  to  fly 

By  a  new  track  through  ether 's  wide  dominion, 

To  distant  spheres  of  pure  activity. 

This  life  intense,  this  godlike  ecstasy — 

Worm  that  thou  art  such  rapture  canst  thou  earn? 

Only  resolve,  with  courage  stern  and  high, 

Thy  visage  from  the  radiant  sun  to  turn! 

Dare  with  determin'd  will  to  burst  the  portals 

Past  which  in  terror  others  fain  would  steal ! 

Now  is  the  time,  through  deeds,  to  show  that  mortals 

The  calm  sublimity  of  gods  can  feel ; 

To  shudder  not  at  yonder  dark  abyss 

Where  phantasy  creates  her  own  self-torturing  brood ; 

Right  onward  to  the  yawning  gulf  to  press, 

Around  whose  narrow  jaws  rolleth  hell's  fiery  flood; 

With  glad  resolve  to  take  the  fatal  leap, 

Though  danger  threaten  thee,  to  sink  in  endless  sleep! 

Pure  crystal  goblet !  forth  I  draw  thee  now 
From  out  thine  antiquated  case,  where  thou 
Forgotten  hast  reposed  for  many  a  year ! 
Oft  at  my  father's  revels  thou  didst  shine; 
To  glad  the  earnest  guests  was  thine, 
As  each  to  other  passed  the  generous  cheer. 
The  gorgeous  brede  of  figures,  quaintly  wrought, 
Which  he  who  quaff 'd  must  first  in  rhyme  expound, 
Then  drain  the  goblet  at  one  draught  profound, 


272  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Hath  nights  of  boyhood  to  fond  memory  brought. 
I  to  my  neighbor  shall  not  reach  thee  now, 
Nor  on  thy  rich  device  shall  I  my  cunning  show. 
Here  is  a  juice,  makes  drunk  without  delay; 
Its  dark  brown  flood  thy  crystal  round  doth  fill ; 
Let  this  last  draught,  the  product  of  my  skill, 
My  own  free  choice,  be  quaff 'd  with  resolute  will, 
A  solemn  festive  greeting,  to  the  coming  day ! 

[He  places  the  goblet  to  his  mouth.] 
[The  ringing  of  bells,  and  choral  voices.] 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS 

Christ  is  arisen! 
Mortal,  all  hail  to  thee, 
Thou  whom  mortality, 
Earth's  sad  reality, 
Held  as  in  prison. 

FAUST 

What  hum  melodious,  what  clear  silvery  chime, 
Thus  draws  the  goblet  from  my  lips  away? 
Ye  deep-ton 'd  bells,  do  ye,  with  voice  sublime, 
Announce  the  solemn  dawn  of  Easter-day? 
Sweet  choir!  are  ye  the  hymn  of  comfort  singing, 
Which  once  around  the  darkness  of  the  grave, 
From  seraph-voices,  in  glad  triumph  ringing, 
Of  a  new  covenant  assurance  gave? 

CHORUS  OF  WOMEN 

We,  his  true-hearted, 
With  spices  and  myrrh. 
Embalmed  the  departed, 
And  swathed  Him  with  care; 
Here  we  conveyed  Him, 
Our  Master,  so  dear; 
Alas!    Where  we  laid  Him, 
The  Christ  is  not  here. 


FAUST  — PARTI  273 

CHOBUS  OF  ANGELS 

Christ  is  arisen ! 

Blessed  the  loving  one, 

Who  from  earth's  trial-throes, 

Healing  and  strengthening  woes, 

Soars  as  from  prison. 

FAUST 

Wherefore,  ye  tones  celestial,  sweet  and  strong, 
Come  ye  a  dweller  in  the  dust  to  seek? 
Eing  out  your  chimes  believing  crowds  among, 
The  message  well  I  hear,  my  faith  alone  is  weak; 
From  faith  her  darling,  miracle,  hath  sprung. 
Aloft  to  yonder  spheres  I  dare  not  soar, 
Whence  sound  the  tidings  of  great  joy; 
And  yet,  with  this  sweet  strain  familiar  when  a  boy, 
Back  it  recalleth  me  to  life  once  more. 
Then  would  celestial  love,  with  holy  kiss, 
Come  o'er  me  in  the  Sabbath's  stilly  hour, 
While,  fraught  with  solemn  meaning  and  mysterious  power, 
Chim'd  the  deep-sounding  bell,  and  prayer  was  bliss; 
A  yearning  impulse,  undefin'd  yet  dear, 
Drove  me  to  wander  on  through  wood  and  field; 
With  heaving  breast  and  many  a  burning  tear, 
I  felt  with  holy  joy  a  world  reveal'd. 
Gay   sports    and   festive   hours   proclaim 'd  with  joyous 

pealing 

This  Easter  hymn  in  days  of  old; 
And    fond    remembrance    now    doth   me,    with   childlike 

feeling, 

Back  from  the  last,  the  solemn  step,  withhold. 
0  still  sound  on,  thou  sweet  celestial  strain ! 
The  tear-drop  flows  —  Earth,  I  am  thine  again ! 
VOL.  1  —  18 


274  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

CHORUS   OF   DISCIPLES 

He  whom  we  mourned  as  dead, 

Living  and  glorious, 

From  the  dark  grave  hath  fled, 

O'er  death  victorious; 

Almost  creative  bliss 

Waits  on  His  growing  powers; 

Ah !    Him  on  earth  we  miss ; 

'Sorrow  and  grief  are  ours. 

Yearning  He  left  His  own, 

Mid  sore  annoy; 

Ah !  we  must  needs  bemoan, 

Master,  thy  joy! 

CHOBTJS  OF   ANGELS 

Christ  is  arisen, 
Redeem 'd  from  decay. 
The  bonds  which  imprison 
Your  souls,  rend  away! 
Praising  the  Lord  with  zeal, 
By  deeds  that  love  reveal, 
Lake  brethren  true  and  leal 
Sharing  the  daily  meal, 
To  all  that  sorrow  feel 
Whisp'ring  of  heaven's  weal, 
Still  is  the  Master  near, 
Still  is  He  here! 

BEFORE  THE  GATE 

Promenaders  of  all  sorts  pass  out. 
ARTISANS 

Why  choose  ye  that  direction,  pray? 

OTHERS 

To  the  hunting-lodge  we're  on  our  way. 

THE   FIRST 

We  toward  the  mill  are  strolling  on. 


FAUST  —  PART  I  275 

A   MECHANIC 

A  walk  to  Wasserhof  were  best. 

A   SECOND 

The  road  is  not  a  pleasant  one. 

THE   OTHEBS 

What  will  you  dot 

A  THIRD 

I'll  join  the  rest. 

A  FOURTH 

Let's  up  to  Burghof,  there  you'll  find  good  cheer, 
The  prettiest  maidens  and  the  best  of  beer, 
And  brawls  of  a  prime  sort. 

A  FIFTH 

You  scapegrace!    How? 
Your  skin  still  itching  for  a  row? 
Thither  I  will  not  go,  I  loathe  the  place. 

SERVANT  GIRL 

No,  no !    I  to  the  town  my  steps  retrace. 

ANOTHER 

Near  yonder  poplars  he  is  sure  to  be. 

THE  FIRST 

And  if  he  is,  what  matters  it  to  me ! 

With  you  he'll  walk,  he'll  dance  with  none  but  you, 

And  with  your  pleasures  what  have  I  to  do  ? 

THE  SECOND 

Today  he  will  not  be  alone,  he  said 

His  friend  would  be  with  him,  the  curly-head. 

STUDENT 

Why  how  those  buxom  girls  step  on ! 
Come,  brother,  we  will  follow  them  anon. 
Strong  beer,  a  damsel  smartly  dress 'd, 
Stinging  tobacco  —  these  I  love  the  best. 


276  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

BUBGHEB'S  DAUGHTEB 
Look  at  those  handsome  fellows  there! 
'Tis  really  shameful,  I  declare ; 
The  very  best  society  they  shun, 
After  those  servant-girls  forsooth,  to  run. 

SECOND  STUDENT  (to  the  first) 
Not  quite  so*  fast !  for  in  our  rear, 
Two  girls,  well-dress  'd,  are  drawing  near ; 
Not  far  from  us  the  one  doth  dwell, 
And,  sooth  to  say,  I  like  her  well. 
They  walk  demurely,  yet  you'll  see, 
That  they  will  let  us  join  them  presently. 

THE   FIBST 

Not  I !  restraints  of  all  kinds  I  detest. 
Quick !  let  us  catch  the  wild-game  ere  it  flies ; 
The  hand  on  Saturday  the  mop  that  plies 
Will  on  the  Sunday  fondle  you  the  best. 

BUBGHEB 

No,  this  new  Burgomaster ;  I  like  him  not,  God  knows ; 
No,  he 's  in  office ;  daily  more  arrogant  he  grows ; 
And  for  the  town,  what  doth  he  do  for  it? 
Are  not  things  worse  from  day  to  day? 
To  more  restraints  we  must  submit ; 
And  taxes  more  than  ever  pay. 

BEGGAB  (sings) 

Kind  gentlemen  and  ladies  fair, 
So  rosy-cheek 'd  and  trimly  dress 'd, 
Be  pleas  'd  to  listen  to  my  prayer ; 
Believe  and  pity  the  distress 'd. 
Let  me  not  vainly  sing  my  lay! 
His  heart's  most  glad  whose  hand  is  free. 
Now  when  all  men  keep  holiday, 
Should  be  a  harvest-day  to  me. 


FAUST  —  PART  I  277 

ANOTHER  BURGHER 

On  holidays  and  Sundays  naught  know  I  more  inviting 

Than  chatting  about  war  and  war's  alarms, 

When  folk  in  Turkey,  up  in  arms, 

Far  off,  are  'gainst  each  other  fighting. 

We  at  the  window  stand,  our  glasses  drain 

And  watch  adown  the  stream  the  painted  vessels  gliding; 

Then  joyful  we  at  eve  come  home  again, 

And  peaceful  times  we  bless,  peace  long-abiding. 

THIRD   BURGHER 

Ay,  neighbor !    'So  let  matters  stand  for  me ! 
There  they  may  scatter  one  another's  brains, 
And  wild  confusion  round  them  see  — 
So  here  at  home  in  quiet  all  remains ! 

OLD  WOMAN   (to  the  BURGHERS '  DAUGHTERS) 

Heyday !    How  smart !    The  fresh  young  blood ! 
Who  would  not  fall  in  love  with  you? 
Not  quite  so  proud !     'Tis  well  and  good ! 
And  what  you  wish,  that  I  could  help  you  to. 

BURGHER'S  DAUGHTER 
Come,  Agatha!    I  care  not  to  be  seen 
Walking  in  public  with  these  witches.    True, 
My  future  lover,  last  St.  Andrew's  E'en, 
In  flesh  and  blood  she  brought  before  my  view. 

ANOTHER 

And  mine  she  show'd  me  also  in  the  glass. 
A  soldier's  figure,  with  companions  bold; 
I  look  around,  I  seek  him  as  I  pass  — 
In  vain,  his  form  I  nowhere  can  behold. 

SOLDIERS 

Fortress  with  turrets 
And  walls  high  in  air, 
Damsel  disdainful, 
Haughty  and  fair  — 


278  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

These  be  my  prey! 
Bold  is  the  venture, 
Costly  the  pay ! 

Hark,  how  the  trumpet 
Thither  doth  call  us 
Where  either  pleasure 
Or  death  may  befall  us ! 
*  Hail  to  the  tumult ! 
Life's  in  the  field! 
Damsel  and  fortress 
To  us  must  yield. 
Bold  is  the  venture, 
Costly  the  pay! 
Gaily  the  soldier 
Marches  away. 

FAUST  and  WAGNER 
FAUST 

Loosed  from  their  fetters  are  streams  and  rills 

Through  the  gracious  spring-tide 's  all-quickening  glow ; 

Hope's  budding  joy  in  the  vale  doth  blow; 

Old  Winter  back  to  the  savage  hills 

Withdraweth  his  force,  decrepid  now. 

Thence  only  impotent  icy  grains 

Scatters  he  as  he  wings  his  flight, 

Striping  with  sleet  the  verdant  plains ; 

But  the  sun  endureth  no  trace  of  white ; 

Everywhere  growth  and  movement  are  rife, 

All  things  investing  with  hues  of  life: 

Though  flowers  are  lacking,  varied  of  dye, 

Their  colors  the  motley  throng  supply. 

Turn  thee  around,  and,  from  this  height, 

Back  to  the  town  direct  thy  sight. 

Forth  from  the  hollow,  gloomy  gate, 

Stream  forth  the  masses,  in  bright  array. 

Gladly  seek  they  the  sun  today; 


FAUST  — PARTI  279 

The  Lord 's  Resurrection  they  celebrate : 

For  they  themselves  have  risen,  with  joy, 

From  tenement  sordid,  from  cheerless  room, 

From  bonds  of  toil,  from  care  and  annoy, 

From  gable  and  roof's  o'er  hanging  gloom, 

From  crowded  alley  and  narrow  street, 

And  from  the  churches'  awe-breathing  night 

All  now  have  come  forth  into  the  light. 

Look,  only  look,  on  nimble  feet, 

Through  garden  and  field  how  spread  the  throng, 

How  o'er  the  river's  ample  sheet 

Many  a  gay  wherry  glides  along; 

And  see,  deep  sinking  in  the  tide, 

Pushes  the  last  boat  now  away. 

E'en  from  yon  far  hill's  path-worn  side, 

Flash  the  bright  hues  of  garments  gay. 

Hark !    Sounds  of  village  mirth  arise ; 

This  is  the  people's  paradise. 

Both  great  and  small  send  up  a  cheer  j 

Here  am  I  man,  I  feel  it  here. 

WAGNER 

Sir  Doctor,  in  a  walk  with  you 
There's  honor  and  instruction  too; 
Yet  here  alone  I  care  not  to  resort, 
Because  I  coarseness  hate  of  every  sort. 
This  fiddling,  shouting,  skittling,  I  detest; 
I  hate  the  tumult  of  the  vulgar  throng; 
They  roar  as  by  the  evil  one  possess 'd, 
And  call  it  pleasure,  call  it  song. 

PEASANTS  (under  the  linden-tree) 

Dance  and  Sing. 

The  shepherd  for  the  dance  was  dress 'd, 
With  ribbon,  wreath,  and  colored  vest, 
A  gallant  show  displaying. 
And  round  about  the  linden-tree, 


280  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

They  footed  it  right  merrily. 

Juchhe !    Juchhe ! 

Juchheisa !    Heisa !    He ! 
So  fiddle-bow  was  braying. 
Our  swain  amidst  the  circle  press 'd, 
He  push'd  a  maiden  trimly  dress 'd, 
And  jogg'd  her  with  his  elbow; 
The  buxom  damsel  turn'd  her  head. 

»  7 

"  Now  that's  a  stupid  trick!"  she  said, 

Juchhe !    Juchhe ! 

Juchheisa !    Heisa !    He ! 
Don't  be  so  rude,  good  fellow! 

Swift  in  the  circle  they  advanced, 
They  danced  to  right,  to  left  they  danced, 
And  all  the  skirts  were  swinging. 
And  they  grew  red,  and  they  grew  warm, 
Panting,  they  rested  arm  in  arm, 

Juchhe !    Juchhe ! 

Juchheisa !    Heisa !    He ! 
To  hip  their  elbow  bringing. 

Don't  make  so  free!    How  many  a  maid 

Has  been  be  troth 'd  and  then  be  tray 'd; 

And  has  repented  after! 

Yet  still  he  flatter 'd  her  aside, 

And  from  the  linden,  far  and  wide, 

Juchhe !    Juchhe ! 

Juchheisa !    Heisa !    He ! 
Bang  fiddle-bow  and  laughter. 

OLD  PEASANT 

Doctor,  'tis  really  kind  of  you, 

To  condescend  to  come  this  way, 

A  highly  learned  man  like  you, 

To  join  our  mirthful  throng  today. 

Our  fairest  cup  I  offer  you, 

Which  we  with  sparkling  drink  have  crown 'd, 


FAUST  — PAETI  281 

And  pledging  you,  I  pray  aloud, 
That  every  drop  within  its  round, 
While  it  your  present  thirst  allays, 
May  swell  the  number  of  your  days. 

FAUST 

I  take  the  cup  you  kindly  reach, 
Thanks  and  prosperity  to  each! 

[The  crowd  gather  round  in  a  circle.] 

OLD  PEASANT 

Ay,  truly !  'tis  well  done,  that  you 

Our  festive  meeting  thus  attend ; 

You,  who  in  evil  days  of  yore, 

So  often  show'd  yourself  our  friend  I 

Full  many  a  one  stands  living  here, 

Who  from  the  fever's  deadly  blast 

Your  father  rescu'd,  when  his  skill 

The  fatal  sickness  stay'd  at  last. 

A  young  man  then,  each  house  you  sought, 

Where  reign 'd  the  mortal  pestilence. 

Corpse  after  corpse  was  carried  forth, 

But  still  unscath'd  you  issued  thence. 

Sore  then  your  trials  and  severe ; 

The  Helper  yonder  aids  the  helper  here. 

AJ.-L 

Heaven  bless  the  trusty  friend,  and  long 
To  help  the  poor  his  life  prolong! 

FAUST 

To  Him  above  in  homage  bend, 

Who  prompts  the  helper  and  Who  help  doth  send. 

[He  proceeds  with  WAGNER.} 

WAGNEB 

What  feelings,  great  man,  must  thy  breast  inspire, 
At  homage  paid  thee  by  this  crowd !    Thrice  blest 
Who  from  the  gifts  by  him  possessed 
Such  benefit  can  draw !    The  sire 
Thee  to  his  boy  with  reverence  shows ; 


282  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

They  press  around,  inquire,  advance, 

Hush'd  is  the  fiddle,  check 'd  the  dance. 

Where  thou  dost  pass  they  stand  in  rows, 

And  each  aloft  his  bonnet  throws, 

But  little  fails  and  they  to  thee, 

As  though  the  Host  came  by,  would  bend  the  knee. 

FAUST 

A  few  steps  further,  up  to  yonder  stone ! 

Here  rest  wo  from  our  walk.    In  times  long  past, 

Absorb 'd  in  thought,  here  oft  I  sat  alone, 

And  disciplin'd  myself  with  prayer  and  fast. 

Then  rich  in  hope,  with  faith  sincere, 

With  sighs,  and  hands  in  anguish  press  'd, 

The  end  of  that  sore  plague,  with  many  a  tear, 

From  heaven's  dread  Lord,  I  sought  to  wrest. 

The  crowd's  applause  assumes  a  scornful  tone. 

Oh,  could 'st  thou  in  my  inner  being  read 

How  little  either  sire  or  son 

Of  such  renown  deserves  the  meed! 

My  sire,  of  good  repute,  and  sombre  mood, 

O'er  nature's  powers  and  every  mystic  zone, 

With  honest  zeal,  but  methods  of  his  own, 

With  toil  fantastic  loved  to  brood ; 

His  time  in  dark  alchemic  cell, 

With  brother-adepts  he  would  spend, 

And  there  antagonists  compel 

Through  numberless  receipts  to  blend. 

A  ruddy  lion  there,  a  suitor  bold, 

In  tepid  bath  was  with  the  lily  wed. 

Thence  both,  while  open  flames  around  them  roll'd, 

Were  tortur'd  to  another  bridal  bed. 

Was  then  the  youthful  queen  descried 

With  varied  colors  in  the  flask  — 

This  was  our  medicine ;  the  patients  died ; 

"  Who  were  restored?"  none  cared  to  ask. 

With  our  infernal  mixture  thus,  ere  long, 

These  hills  and  peaceful  vales  among 


FAUST  —  PART  I  283 

We  rag'd  more  fiercely  than  the  pest; 

Myself  the  deadly  poison  did  to  thousands  give; 

They  pined  away,  I  yet  must  live 

To  hear  the  reckless  murderers  blest. 

WAGNER 

Why  let  this  thought  your  soul  o'ercastf 
Can  man  do  more  than  with  nice  skill, 
With  firm  and  conscientious  will, 
Practise  the  art  transmitted  from  the  past? 
If  thou  thy  sire  dost  honor  in  thy  youth, 
His  lore  thou  gladly  wilt  receive; 
In  manhood,  dost  thou  spread  the  bounds  of  truth, 
Then  may  thy  son  a  higher  goal  achieve. 

FAUST 

How  blest,  in  whom  the  fond  desire 
From  error's  sea  to  rise,  hope  still  renews! 
What  a  man  knows  not,  that  he  doth  require, 
And  what  he  knoweth,  that  he  cannot  use. 
But  let  not  moody  thoughts  their  shadow  throw 
O'er  the  calm  beauty  of  this  hour  serene! 
In  the  rich  sunset  see  how  brightly  glow 
Yon  cottage  homes,  girt  round  with  verdant  green! 
Slow  sinks  the  orb,  the  day  is  now  no  more ; 
Yonder  he  hastens  to  diffuse  new  life. 
Oh  for  a  pinion  from  the  earth  to  soar, 
And  after,  ever  after  him  to  strive ! 
Then  should  I  see  the  world  below, 
Bathed  in  the  deathless  evening-beams, 
The  vales  reposing,  every  height  a-glow, 
The  silver  brooklets  meeting  golden  streams. 
The  savage  mountain,  with  its  cavern 'd  side, 
Bars  not  my  godlike  progress.    Lo,  the  ocean, 
Its  warm  bays  heaving  with  a  tranquil  motion, 
To  my  rapt  vision  opes  its  ample  tide! 
But  now  at  length  the  god  appears  to  sink; 
A  new-born  impulse  wings  my  flight, 


284  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Onward  I  press,  Ms  quenchless  light  to  drink, 

The  day  before  me,  and  behind  the  night, 

The  pathless  waves  beneath,  and  over  me  the  skies. 

Fair  dream,  it  vanished  with  the  parting  day! 

Alas !  that  when  on  spirit-wing  we  rise, 

No  wing  material  lifts  our  mortal  clay. 

But  'tis  our  inborn  impulse,  deep  and  strong, 

Upwards  and  onwards  still  to  urge  our  flight, 

When  far  above  us  pours  its  thrilling  song 

The  sky-lark,  lost  in  azure  light; 

When  on  extended  wing  amain 

O'er  pine-crown 'd  height  the  eagle  soars; 

And  over  moor  and  lake,  the  crane 

Still  striveth  toward  its  native  shores. 

WAGNER 

To  strange  conceits  oft  I  myself  must  own, 

But  impulse  such  as  this  I  ne  'er  have  known : 

Nor  woods,  nor  fields,  can  long  our  thoughts  engage ; 

Their  wings  I  envy  not  the  feather  'd  kind ; 

Far  otherwise  the  pleasures  of  the  mind 

Bear  us  from  book  to  book,  from  page  to  page! 

Then  winter  nights  grow  cheerful ;  keen  delight 

Warms  every  limb ;  and  ah !  when  we  unroll 

Some  old  and  precious  parchment,  at  the  sight 

All  heaven  itself  descends  upon  the  soul. 

FAUST 

Thy  heart  by  one  sole  impulse  is  possess 'd; 
Unconscious  of  the  other  still  remain! 
Two  souls,  alas!  are  lodg'd  within  my  breast, 
Which  struggle  there  for  undivided  reign: 
One  to  the  world,  with  obstinate  desire, 
And  closely-cleaving  organs,  still  adheres; 
Above  the  mist,  the  other  doth  aspire, 
With  sacred  vehemence,  to  purer  spheres. 
Oh,  are  there  spirits  in  the  air 

Who  float  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  dominion,  wielding, 
Stoop  hither  from  your  golden  atmosphere, 


FAUST  — PART  I  285 

Lead  me  to  scenes,  new  life  and  fuller  yielding  I 
A  magic  mantle  did  I  but  possess, 
Abroad  to  waft  me  as  on  viewless  wings, 
I'd  prize  it  far  beyond  the  costliest  dress, 
Nor  would  I  change  it  for  the  robe  of  kings. 

WAGNER 

Call  not  the  spirits  who  on  mischief  wait! 
Their  troop  familiar,  streaming  through  the  air, 
From  every  quarter  threaten  man's  estate, 
And  danger  in  a  thousand  forms  prepare! 
They  drive  impetuous  from  the  frozen  north, 
With  fangs  sharp-piercing,  and  keen  arrowy  tongues ; 
From  the  ungenial  east  they  issue  forth, 
And  prey,  with  parching  breath,  upon  thy  lungs ; 
If,  waft'd  on  the  desert's  flaming  wing, 
They  from  the  south  heap  fire  upon  the  brain, 
Refreshment  from  the  west  at  first  they  bring, 
Anon  to  drown  thyself  and  field  and  plain. 
In  wait  for  mischief,  they  are  prompt  to  hear; 
With  guileful  purpose  our  behests  obey; 
Like  ministers  of  grace  they  oft  appear, 
And  lisp  like  angels,  to  betray. 
But  let  us  hence !     Gray  eve  doth  all  things  blend, 
The  air  grows  chill,  the  mists  descend! 
'Tis  in  the  evening  first  our  home  we  prize  — 
Why  stand  you  thus,  and  gaze  with  wondering  eyest 
What  in  the  gloom  thus  moves  you! 

FAUST 

Yon  black  hound 
See'st  thou,  through  corn  and  stubble  scampering  round? 

WAGNEB 

I've  mark'd  him  long,  naught  strange  in  him  I  see! 

FAUST 

Note  him!     What  takest  thou  the  brute  to  bet 


286  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

WAGNER 

But  for  a  poodle,  whom  his  instinct  serves 
His  master's  track  to  find  once  more. 

FAUST 

Dost  mark  how  round  us,  with  wide  spiral  curves, 
He  wheels,  eadi  circle  closer  than  before? 
And,  if  I  err  not,  he  appears  to  me 
A  line  of  fire  upon  his  track  to  leave. 

WAGNER 

Naught  but  a  poodle  black  of  hue  I  see ; 
'Tis  some  illusion  doth  your  sight  deceive. 

FAUST 

Methinks  a  magic  coil  our  feet  around, 
He  for  a  future  snare  doth  lightly  spread. 

WAGNER 

Around  us  as  in  doubt  I  see  him  shyly  bound, 
Since  he  two  strangers  seeth  in  his  master's  stead. 

FAUST 

The  circle  narrows,  he's  already  near  I 

WAGNER 

A  dog  dost  see,  no  spectre  have  we  here; 
He  growls,  doubts,  lays  him  on  his  belly  too, 
And  wags  his  tail  —  as  dogs  are  wont  to  do. 

FAUST 

Come  hither,  Sirrah!  join  our  company! 

WAGNER 

A  very  poodle,  he  appears  to  be! 
Thou  standest  still,  for  thee  he'll  wait; 
Thou  speak 'st  to  him,  he  fawns  upon  thee  straight; 
Aught  thou  mayst  lose,  again  he'll  bring, 
And  for  thy  stick  will  into  water  spring. 


FAUST  — PART  I  287 

FAUST 

Thou'rt  right  indeed;  no  traces  now  I  see 
Whatever  of  a  spirit's  agency, 
'Tis  training — nothing  more. 

WAGNER 

A  dog  well  taught 

E  'en  by  the  wisest  of  us  may  be  sought. 
Ay,  to  your  favor  he's  entitled  too, 
Apt  scholar  of  the  students,  'tis  his  due! 

[They  enter  the  gate  of  the  town.] 

STUDY 

FAUST  (entering  with  the  poodle) 
Now  field  and  meadow  I've  forsaken; 
O'er  them  deep  night  her  veil  doth  draw; 
In  us  the  better  soul  doth  waken, 
With  feelings  of  foreboding  awe. 
All  lawless  promptings,  deeds  unholy, 
Now  slumber,  and  all  wild  desires; 
The  love  of  man  doth  sway  us  wholly, 
And  love  to  God  the  soul  inspires. 

Peace,  poodle,  peace !     Scamper  not  thus ;  obey  me  1 

Why  at  the  threshold  snuffest  thou  so? 

Behind  the  stove  now  quietly  lay  thee, 

My  softest  cushion  to  thee  I'll  throw. 

As  thou,  without,  didst  please  and  amuse  me, 

Running  and  frisking  about  on  the  hill, 

So  tendance  now  I  will  not  refuse  thee ; 

A  welcome  guest,  if  thou 'It  be  still. 

Ah!  when  the  friendly  taper  gloweth, 
Once  more  within  our  narrow  cell, 
Then  in  the  heart  itself  that  knoweth, 
A  light  the  darkness  doth  dispel. 
Reason  her  voice  resumes;  returneth 
Hope's  gracious  bloom,  with  promise  rife; 
For  streams  of  life  the  spirit  yearneth, 
Ah !  for  the  very  fount  of  life. 


288  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Poodle,  snarl  not !  with  the  tone  that  arises, 
Hallow  M  and  peaceful,  my  soul  within, 
Accords  not  thy  growl,  thy  bestial  din. 
We  find  it  not  strange,  that  man  despises 
What  he  conceives  not; 
That  he  the  good  and  fair  misprizes  — 
Finding  them-  often  beyond  his  ken ; 
Will  the  dog  snarl  at  them  like  men! 

But  ah !    Despite  my  will,  it  stands  confessed ; 

Contentment  welleth  up  no  longer  in  my  breast. 

Yet  wherefore  must  the  stream,  alas,  so  soon  be  dry, 

That  we  once  more  athirst  should  lie? 

Full  oft  this  sad  experience  hath  been  mine; 

Nathless  the  want  admits  of  compensation; 

For  things  above  the  earth  we  learn  to  pine, 

Our  spirits  yearn  for  revelation, 

Which  nowhere  burns  with  purer  beauty  blent, 

Than  here  in  the  New  Testament. 

To  ope  the  ancient  text  an  impulse  strong 

Impels  me,  and  its  sacred  lore, 

With  honest  purpose  to  explore, 

And  render  into  my  loved  German  tongue. 

[He  opens  a  volume  and  applies  himself  to  it.] 
'Tis  writ,  "  In  the  beginning  was  the  Word!  " 
I  pause,  perplex 'd!     Who  now  will  help  afford? 
I  cannot  the  mere  Word  so  highly  prize; 
I  must  translate  it  otherwise, 
If  by  the  spirit  guided  as  I  read. 
"  In  the  beginning  was  the  Sense!  "     Take  heed, 
The  import  of  this  primal  sentence  weigh, 
Lest  thy  too  hasty  pen  be  led  astray! 
Is  force  creative  then  of  Sense  the  dower? 
' '  In  the  beginning  was  the  Power ! ' ' 
Thus  should  it  stand:  yet,  while  the  line  I  trace, 
A  something  warns  me,  once  more  to  efface. 
The  spirit  aids!  from  anxious  scruples  freed, 
I  write,  "  In  the  beginning  was  the  Deed!  " 


FAUST  — PARTI  289 

Am  I  with  thee  my  room  to  share, 

Poodle,  thy  barking  now  forbear, 

Forbear  thy  howling! 

Comrade  so  noisy,  ever  growling, 

I  cannot  suffer  here  to  dwell. 

One  or  the  other,  mark  me  well, 

Forthwith  must  leave  the  cell. 

Fm  loath  the  guest- right  to  withhold; 

The  door's  ajar,  the  passage  clear; 

But  what  must  now  mine  eyes  behold! 

Are  nature's  laws  suspended  here! 

Real  is  it,  or  a  phantom  show? 

In  length  and  breadth  how  doth  my  poodle  grow ! 

He  lifts  himself  with  threat 'ning  mien, 

In  likeness  of  a  dog  no  longer  seen! 

What  spectre  have  I  harbor 'd  thus! 

Huge  as  a  hippopotamus, 

With  fiery  eye,  terrific  tooth! 

Ah!  now  I  know  thee,  sure  enough! 

For  such  a  base,  half-hellish  brood, 

The  key  of  Solomon  is  good. 

SPIEITS  (without) 
Captur'd  there  within  is  one! 
Stay  without  and  follow  none! 
Like  a  fox  in  iron  snare, 
Hell's  old  lynx  is  quaking  there, 

But  take  heed! 
Hover  round,  above,  below, 

To  and  fro, 

Then  from  durance  is  he  freed ! 
Can  ye  aid  him,  spirits  all, 
Leave  him  not  in  mortal  thrall! 
Many  a  time  and  oft  hath  he 
Served  us,  when  at  liberty. 
VOL.  1  —  19 


290  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

The  monster  to  confront,  at  first, 
The  spell  of  Four  must  be  rehears 'd; 

Salamander  shall  kindle, 
Writhe  nymph  of  the  wave, 
In  air  syjph  shall  dwindle, 
And  Kobold  shall  slave. 

Who  doth  ignore 
The  primal  Four, 
Nor  knows  aright 
Their  use  and  might, 
O'er  spirits  will  he 
Ne  'er  master  be ! 

Vanish  in  the  fiery  glow, 

Salamander ! 

Rushingly  together  flow, 

Undine ! 

Shimmer  in  the  meteor's  gleam, 

Sylphide ! 

Hither  bring  thine  homely  aid, 

Incubus !      Incubus ! 

Step  forth!     I  do  adjure  thee  thus! 

None  of  the  Four 

Lurks  in  the  beast: 

He  grins  at  me,  untroubled  as  before; 

I  have  not  hurt  him  in  the  least. 

A  spell  of  fear 

Thou  now  shalt  hear. 

Art  thou,  comrade  fell, 
Fugitive  from  Hell? 
See  then  this  sign, 
Before  which  incline 
The  murky  troops  of  Hell! 
With  bristling  hair  now  doth  the  creature  swell. 


FAUST  — PART  I  291 

Canst  thou,  reprobate, 
Read  the  uncreate, 
Unspeakable,  diffused 
Throughout  the  heavenly  sphere, 
Shamefully  abused, 
Transpierced  with  nail  and  spear! 

Behind  the  stove,  tam'd  by  my  spells, 
Like  an  elephant  he  swells; 
Wholly  now  he  fills  the  room, 
He  into  mist  will  melt  away. 
Ascend  not  to  the  ceiling!     Come, 
Thyself  at  the  master's  feet  now  lay! 
Thou  seest  that  mine  is  no  idle  threat. 
With  holy  fire  I  will  scorch  thee  yet! 
Wait  not  the  might 
That  lies  in  the  triple-glowing  light! 
Wait  not  the  might 
Of  all  my  arts  in  fullest  measure! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (as  the  mist  sinks,  comes  forward  from 

behind  the  stove,  in  the  dress  of  a  traveling  scholar) 
Why  all  this  uproar!     What's  the  master's  pleasure? 

FAUST 

This  then  the  kernel  of  the  brute! 
A  traveling  scholar  f    Why  I  needs  must  smile. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Your  learned  reverence  humbly  I  salute! 
You've  made  me  swelter  in  a  pretty  style. 

FAUST 

Thy  name? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  question  trifling  seems  from  one, 
Who  it  appears  the  Word  doth  rate  so  low; 
Who,  undeluded  by  mere  outward  show, 
To  Being's  depths  would  penetrate  alone. 


292  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

"With  gentlemen  like  you  indeed 

The  inward  essence  from  the  name  we  read, 

As  all  too  plainly  it  doth  appear, 

When  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Liar,  meets  the  ear. 

Who  then  art  thou? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Part  of  that  power  which  still 
Produceth  good,  whilst  ever  scheming  ill. 

FAUST 
What  hidden  mystery  in  this  riddle  liesT 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  spirit  I,  which  evermore  denies! 
And  justly ;  for  whate  'er  to  light  is  brought 
Deserves  again  to  be  reduced  to  naught; 
Then  better  'twere  that  naught  should  be. 
Thus  all  the  elements  which  ye 
Destruction,  Sin,  or  briefly,  Evil,  name, 
As  my  peculiar  element  I  claim. 

FAUST 
Thou  nam'st  thyself  a  part,  and  yet  a  whole  I  see. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  modest  truth  I  speak  to  thee. 
^Though  folly's  microcosm,  man,  it  seems, 
Himself  to  be  a  perfect  whole  esteems: 
Part  of  the  part  am  I,  which  at  the  first  was  all, 
A  part  of  darkness,  which  gave  birth  to  light  — 
Proud  light,  who  now  his  mother  would  enthrall, 
Contesting  space  and  ancient  rank  with  night. 
Yet  he  succeedeth  not,  for  struggle  as  he  will, 
To  forms  material  he  adhereth  still; 
From  them  he  streameth,  them  he  maketh  fair, 
And  still  the  progress  of  his  beams  they  check ; 
And  so,  I  trust,  when  comes  the  final  wreck, 
Light  will,  ere  long,  the  doom  of  matter  share. 


FAUST  — PARTI  293 

FAUST 

Thy  worthy  avocation  now  I  guess! 
Wholesale  annihilation  won't  prevail, 
So  thou'rt  beginning  on  a  smaller  scale. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And,  to  say  truth,  as  yet  with  small  success. 

Oppos'd  to  naught,  this  clumsy  world, 

The  something — it  subsisteth  still; 

Not  yet  is  it  to  ruin  hurl'd, 

Despite  the  efforts  of  my  will. 

Tempests  and  earthquakes,  fire  and  flood,  I've  tried; 

Yet  land  and  ocean  still  unchang'd  abide! 

And  then  of  humankind  and  beasts,  the  accursed  brood, — 

Neither  o'er  them  can  I  extend  my  sway. 

What  countless  myriads  have  I  swept  away! 

Yet  ever  circulates  the  fresh  young  blood. 

It  is  enough  to  drive  me  to  despair ! 

As  in  the  earth,  in  water,  and  in  air, 

A  thousand  germs  burst  forth  spontaneously; 

In  moisture,  drought,  heat,  cold,  they  still  appear! 

Had  I  not  flame  selected  as  my  sphere, 

Nothing  apart  had  been  reserved  for  me. 

FAUST 

So  thou  with  thy  cold  devil's  fist, 
Still  clench 'd  in  malice  impotent, 
Dost  the  creative  power  resist, 
The  active,  the  beneficent! 
Henceforth  some  other  task  essay, 
Of  Chaos  thou  the  wondrous  son! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We  will  consider  what  you  say, 
And  talk  about  it  more  anon! 
For  this  time  have  I  leave  to  got 

FAUST 

Why  thou  shouldst  ask,  I  cannot  see. 
Since  thee  I  now  have  learned  to  know, 


294  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

At  thy  good  pleasure,  visit  me. 
Here  is  the  window,  here  the  door, 
The  chimney,  too,  may  serve  thy  need. 

"  MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  must  confess,  my  stepping  o'er 

Thy  threshold  a  slight  hindrance  doth  impede; 

The  wizard-foot  doth  me  retain. 

FAUST 

The  pentagram  thy  peace  doth  mar! 
To  me,  thou  son  of  hell,  explain, 
How  earnest  thou  in,  if  this  thine  exit  bar? 
Could  such  a  spirit  aught  ensnare! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Observe  it  well,  it  is  not  drawn  with  care ; 
One  of  the  angles,  that  which  points  without, 
Is,  as  thou  seest,  not  quite  closed. 

FAUST 

Chance  hath  the  matter  happily  dispos'd! 
So  thou  my  captive  art?     No  doubt! 
By  accident  thou  thus  art  caught! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  sprang  the  dog,  indeed,  observing  naught; 

Things  now  assume  another  shape, 

The  devil's  in  the  house  and  can't  escape. 

FAUST 
Why  through  the  window  not  withdraw? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

For  ghosts  and  for  the  devil  'tis  a  law, 

Where  they  stole  in,  there  they  must  forth.     We're  free 

The  first  to  choose ;  as  to  the  second,  slaves  are  we. 

FAUST 

E'en  hell  hath  its  peculiar  laws,  I  see! 
I'm  glad  of  that!  a  pact  may  then  be  made, 
The  which  you  gentlemen  will  surely  keepT 


FAUST  — PART  I  295 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Whate'er  therein  is  promised  thou  shalt  reap, 

No  tittle  shall  remain  unpaid. 

But  such  arrangements  time  require; 

We'll  speak  of  them  when  next  we  meet; 

Most  earnestly  I  now  entreat, 

This  once  permission  to  retire. 

FAUST 

Another  moment  prithee  here  remain, 
Me  with  some  happy  word  to  pleasure. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  let  me  go !    Ere  long  I'll  come  again ; 
Then  thou  may'st  question  at  thy  leisure. 

FAUST 

'Twas  not  my  purpose  thee  to  lime; 
The  snare  hast  entered  of  thine  own  free  will: 
Let  him  who  holds  the  devil,  hold  him  still  1 
So  soon  he'll  catch  him  not  a  second  time. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  it  so  please  thee,  I'm  at  thy  command; 
Only  on  this  condition,  understand; 
That  worthily  thy  leisure  to  beguile, 
I  here  may  exercise  my  arts  awhile. 

FAUST 

Thou'rt  free  to  do  so!     Gladly  I'll  attend; 
But  be  thine  art  a  pleasant  one! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

My  friend, 

This  hour  enjoyment  more  intense 
Shall  captivate  each  ravish 'd  sense, 
Than  thou  could 'st  compass  in  the  bound 
Of  the  whole  year's  unvarying  round; 
And  what  the  dainty  spirits  sing, 
The  lovely  images  they  bring, 


296  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Are  no  fantastic  sorcery. 

Rich  odors  shall  regale  your  smell, 

On  choicest  sweets  your  palate  dwell, 

Your  feelings  thrill  with  ecstasy. 

No  preparation  do  we  need, 

Here  we  together  are.     Proceed. 

SPIRITS 

Hence  overshadowing  gloom, 

Vanish  from  sight! 

O'er  us  thine  azure  dome, 

Bend,  beauteous  light! 

Dark  clouds  that  o'er  us  spread, 

Melt  in  thin  air! 

Stars,  your  soft  radiance  shed, 

Tender  and  fair ! 

Girt  with  celestial  might, 

Winging  their  airy  flight, 

Spirits  are  thronging. 

Follows  their  forms  of  light 

Infinite  longing! 

Flutter  their  vestures  bright 

O'er  field  and  grove! 

Where  in  their  leafy  bower 

Lovers  the  livelong  hour 

Vow  deathless  love. 

Soft  bloometh  bud  and  bower! 

Bloometh  the  grove! 

Grapes  from  the  spreading  vine 

Crown  the  full  measure; 

Fountains  of  foaming  wine 

Gush  from  the  pressure. 

Still  where  the  currents  wind, 

Gems  brightly  gleam ; 

Leaving  the  hills  behind 

On  rolls  the  stream; 

Now  into  ample  seas, 


Permission  Theodor  Stroefer,  Munich 

FAUST  AND  MEPHISTO 


ZEN-MAYU 


FAUST  — PAETI  297 

Spreadeth  the  flood  — 

Laving  the  sunny  leas, 

Mantled  with  wood. 

Rapture  the  feather  'd  throng, 

Gaily  careering, 

Sip  as  they  float  along; 

Sunward  they're  steering; 

On  toward  the  isles  of  light 

Winging  their  way, 

That  on  the  waters  bright 

Dancingly  play. 

Hark  to  the  choral  strain, 

Joyfully  ringing! 

While  on  the  grassy  plain 

Dancers  are  springing; 

Climbing  the  steep  hill's  side, 

Skimming  the  glassy  tide, 

Wander  they  there; 

Others  on  pinions  wide 

Wing  the  blue  air; 

All  lifeward  tending,  upward  still  wending, 

Toward  yonder  stars  that  gleam, 

Far,  far  above; 

Stars  from  whose  tender  beam 

Rains  blissful  love. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well  done,  my  dainty  spirits !  now  he  slumbers ! 

Ye  have  entranc'd  him  fairly  with  your  numbers! 

This  minstrelsy  of  yours  I  must  repay. — 

Thou  art  not  yet  the  man  to  hold  the  devil  fast !  — 

With  fairest  shapes  your  spells  around  him  cast, 

And  plunge  him  in  a  sea  of  dreams ! 

But  that  this  charm  be  rent,  the  threshold  passed, 

Tooth  of  rat  the  way  must  clear. 

I  need  not  conjure  long  it  seems, 

One  rustles  hitherward,  and  soon  my  voice  will  hear. 


298  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

The  master  of  the  rats  and  mice, 
Of  flies  and  frogs,  of  bugs  and  lice, 
Commands  thy  presence;  without  fear 
Come  forth  and  gnaw  the  threshold  here, 
"Where  he  with  oil  has  smear 'd  it. —  Thou 
Com'st  hopping  forth  already!     Now 
To  work !     The  point  that  holds  me  bound 
Is  in  the  outer  angle  found. 
Another  bite  —  so  —  now  'tis  done  — 
Now,  Faustus,  till  we  meet  again,  dream  on. 

FAUST  (awaking) 

Am  I  once  more  deluded !  must  I  deem 
That  thus  the  throng  of  spirits  disappear? 
The  devil's  presence  —  was  it  but  a  dream  I 
Hath  but  a  poodle  scap'd  and  left  me  here? 


FAUST 

A  knock?     Come  in!     Who  now  would  break  my  rest? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

'TisI! 

FAUST 

Come  in! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thrice  be  the  words  express 'd. 

FAUST 

Then  I  repeat,  Come  in! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

'Tis  well, 

I  hope  that  we  shall  soon  agree! 
For  now  your  fancies  to  expel, 
Here,  as  a  youth  of  high  degree, 
I  come  in  gold-lac 'd  scarlet  vest, 


FAUST  — PART  I  299 

And  stiff-silk  mantle  richly  dress 'd, 
A  cock's  gay  feather  for  a  plume, 
A  long  and  pointed  rapier,  too; 
And  briefly  I  would  counsel  you 
To  don  at  once  the  same  costume, 
And,  free  from  trammels,  speed  away; 
That  what  life  is  you  may  essay. 

FAUST 

In  every  garb  I  needs  must  feel  oppress 'd, 
My  heart  to  earth's  low  cares  a  prey. 
Too  old  the  trifler's  part  to  play, 
Too  young  to  live  by  no  desire  possess 'd. 
What  can  the  world  to  me  afford! 
Renounce!  renounce!  is  still  the  word; 
This  is  the  everlasting  song 
In  every  ear  that  ceaseless  rings, 
And  which,  alas,  our  whole  life  long, 
Hoarsely  each  passing  moment  sings. 
But  to  new  horror  I  awake  each  mom, 
And  I  could  weep  hot  tears,  to  see  the  sun 
Dawn  on  another  day,  whose  round  forlorn 
Accomplishes  no  wish  of  mine  —  not  one. 
Which  still,  with  froward  captiousness,  impains 
E'en  the  presentiment  of  every  joy, 
While  low  realities  and  paltry  cares 
The  spirit's  fond  imaginings  destroy. 
Then  must  I  too,  when  falls  the  veil  of  night, 
Stretch 'd  on  my  pallet  languish  in  despair. 
Appalling  dreams  my  soul  affright; 
No  rest  vouchsafed  me  even  there. 
The  god,  who  throned  within  my  breast  resides, 
Deep  in  my  soul  can  stir  the  springs; 
With  sovereign  sway  my  energies  he  guides, 
He  cannot  move  external  things; 
And  so  existence  is  to  me  a  weight, 
Death  fondly  I  desire,  and  life  I  hate. 


300  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  yet,  methinks,  by  most  'twill  be  confess'd 
That  Death  is  never  quite  a  welcome  guest. 

FAUST 

Happy  the  man  around  whose  brow  he  binds 

The  bloodstain 'd  wreath  in  conquest's  dazzling  hour; 

Or  whom,  excited  by  the  dance,  he  finds 

Dissolv'd  in  bliss,  in  love's  delicious  bower! 

0  that  before  the  lofty  spirit's  might, 

Enraptured,  I  had  rendered  up  my  soul ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yet  did  a  certain  man  refrain  one  night 
Of  its  brown  juice  to  drain  the  crystal  bowl. 

FAUST 

To  play  the  spy  diverts  you  then? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  own, 
Though  not  omniscient,  much  to  me  is  known. 

FAUST 

If  o'er  my  soul  the  tone  familiar,  stealing, 
Drew  me  from  harrowing  thought's  bewild'ring  maze, 
Touching  the  ling 'ring  chords  of  childlike  feeling, 
With  the  sweet  harmonies  of  happier  days: 
So  curse  I  all,  around  the  soul  that  windeth 
Its  magic  and  alluring  spell, 
And  with  delusive  flattery  bindeth 
Its  victim  to  this  dreary  cell! 
Curs'd  before  all  things  be  the  high  opinion 
Wherewith  the  spirit  girds  itself  around! 
Of  shows  delusive  curs'd  be  the  dominion, 
Within  whose  mocking  sphere  our  sense  is  bound ! 
Accurs'd  of  dreams  the  treacherous  wiles, 
The  cheat  of  glory,  deathless  fame ! 
Accurs'd  what  each  as  property  beguiles, 
Wife,  child,  slave,  plough,  whate  'er  its  name  I 


FAUST— -PARTI  3Q1 

Accurs'd  be  mammon,  when  with  treasure 
He  doth  to  daring  deeds  incite: 
Or  when  to  steep  the  soul  in  pleasure, 
He  spreads  the  couch  of  soft  delight ! 
Curs'd  bo  the  grape's  balsamic  juice! 
Accurs'd  love's  dream,  of  joys  the  first! 
Aceurs'd  be  hope!  aocurs'd  be  faith! 
And  more  than  all,  be  patience  curs'd! 

CHOBUS  OF  SPIRITS  (invisible) 
Woe!  woe! 
Thou  hast  destroy 'd 
The  beautiful  world 
With  violent  blow; 
'Tis  shiver 'd!  'tis  shatter 'd! 
The  fragments  abroad  by  a  demigod  scatter 'd  I 
Now  we  sweep 
The  wrecks  into  nothingness! 
Fondly  we  weep 
The  beauty  that's  gone! 
Thou,  'mongst  the  sons  of  earth, 
Lofty  and  mighty  one, 
Build  it  once  more! 

In  thine  own  bosom  the  lost  world  restore  I 
Now  with  unclouded  sense 
Enter  a  new  career; 
Songs  shall  salute  thine  ear, 
Ne'er  heard  before! 

MEPHISTOPHBLES 

My  little  ones  these  spirits  be. 
Hark!  with  shrewd  intelligence, 
How  they  recommend  to  thee 
Action,  and  the  joys  of  sense! 
In  the  busy  world  to  dwell, 
Fain  they  would  allure  thee  hence: 
For  within  this  lonely  cell, 
Stagnate  sap  of  life  and  sense. 


302  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Forbear  to  trifle  longer  with  thy  grief, 

Which,  vulture-like,  consumes  thee  in  this  den. 

The  worst  society  is  some  relief, 

Making  thee  feel  thyself  a  man  with  men. 

Nathless,  it  is  not  meant,  I  trow, 

To  thrust  thee  'mid  the  vulgar  throng. 

I  to  the  upper  ranks  do  not  belong ; 

Yet  if,  by  me  companion'd,  thou 

Thy  steps  through  life  forthwith  wilt  take, 

Upon  the  spot  myself  I'll  make 

Thy  comrade;  — 

Should  it  suit  thy  need, 

I  am  thy  servant,  am  thy  slave  indeed! 

FAUST 

And  how  must  I  thy  services  repay? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thereto  thou  lengthen 'd  respite  hast! 

FAUST 

No !  no  I 

The  devil  is  an  egoist  I  know: 
And,  for  Heaven's  sake,   'tis  not  his  way 
Kindness  to  any  one  to  show. 
Let  the  condition  plainly  be  exprest! 
Such  a  domestic  is  a  dangerous  guest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'll  pledge  myself  to  be  thy  servant  here, 
Still  at  thy  back  alert  and  prompt  to  be ; 
But  when  together  yonder  we  appear, 
Then  shalt  thou  do  the  same  for  me. 

FAUST 

But  small  concern  I  feel  for  yonder  world; 
Hast  thou  this  system  into  ruin  hurl'd, 
Another  may  arise  the  void  to  fill. 
This  earth  the  fountain  whence  my  pleasures  flow. 


FAUST  — PARTI  303 

This  sun  doth  daily  shine  upon  my  woe, 
And  if  this  world  I  must  forego, 
Let  happen  then, — what  can  and  will. 
I  to  this  theme  will  close  mine  ears, 
If  men  hereafter  hate  and  love, 
And  if  there  be  in  yonder  spheres 
A  depth  below  or  height  above. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  this  mood  thou  mayst  venture  it.     But  make 
The  compact!     I  at  once  will  undertake 
To  charm  thee  with  mine  arts.     I'll  give  thee  more 
Than  mortal  eye  hath  e'er  beheld  before. 

FAUST 

What,  sorry  Devil,  hast  thou  to  bestow? 

Was  ever  mortal  spirit,  in  its  high  endeavor, 

Fathom 'd  by  Being  such  as  thou? 

Yet  food  thou  hast  which  satisfieth  never ; 

Hast  ruddy  gold,  that  still  doth  flow 

Like  restless  quicksilver  away; 

A  game  thou  hast,  at  which  none  win  who  play  — 

A  girl  who  would,  with  amorous  eyen, 

E  'en  from  my  breast  a  neighbor  snare, 

Lofty  ambition's  joy  divine, 

That,  meteor-like,  dissolves  in  air. 

Show  me  the  fruit  that,  ere  'tis  pluck 'd,  doth  rot, 

And  trees,  whose  verdure  daily  buds  anew! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Such  a  commission  scares  me  not; 

I  can  provide  such  treasures,  it  is  true. 

But,  my  good  friend,  a  season  will  come  round 

When  on  what's  good  we  may  regale  in  peace. 

FAUST 

If  e'er  upon  my  couch,  stretched  at  my  ease,  I'm  found, 
Then  may  my  life  that  instant  cease ! 


304  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Me  canst  thou  cheat  with  glozing  wile 
Till  self-reproach  away  I  cast, — 
Me  with  joy's  lure  canst  thou  beguile;  — 
Let  that  day  be  for  me  the  last! 
Be  this  our  wager! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Settled! 

FAUST 

Sure  and  fast! 

When  to  the  moment  I  shall  say, 
'  *  Linger  awhile !  so  fair  thou  art ! ' ' 
Then  mayst  thou  fetter  me  straightway, 
Then  to  the  abyss  will  I  depart! 
Then  may  the  solemn  death-bell  sound, 
Then  from  thy  service  thou  art  free, 
The  index  then  may  cease  its  round, 
And  time  be  never  more  for  me! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  shall  remember:  pause,  ere  'tis  too  late. 

FAUST 

Thereto  a  perfect  right  hast  thou. 
My  strength  I  do  not  rashly  overrate. 
Slave  am  I  here,  at  any  rate, 
If  thine,  or  whose,  it  matters  not,  I  trow. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

At  thine  inaugural  feast  I  will  this  day 
Attend,  my  duties  to  commence. — 
But  one  thing!  —  Accidents  may  happen,  hence 
A  line  or  two  in  writing  grant,  I  pray. 

FAUST 

A  writing,  Pedant!  dost  demand  from  me? 

Man,  and  man's  plighted  word,  are  these  unknown  to  theef 

Is't  not  enough,  that  by  the  word  I  gave, 

My  doom  for  evermore  is  cast! 


FAUST —  PART  I  305 

Doth  not  the  world  in  all  its  currents  rave, 

And  must  a  promise  hold  me  fast? 

Yet  fixed  is  this  delusion  in  our  heart; 

Who,  of  his  own  free  will,  therefrom  would  part! 

How  blest  within  whose  breast  truth  reigneth  pure ! 

No  sacrifice  will  he  repent  when  made! 

A  formal  deed,  with  seal  and  signature, 

A  spectre  this  from  which  all  shrink  afraid. 

The  word  its  life  resigneth  in  the  pen, 

Leather  and  wax  usurp  the  mastery  then. 

Spirits  of  evil!  what  dost  thou  require! 

Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper,  dost  desire? 

Shall  I  with  chisel,  pen,  or  graver  write? 

Thy  choice  is  free ;  to  me  'tis  all  the  same. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Wherefore  thy  passion  so  excite, 
And  thus  thine  eloquence  inflame? 
A  scrap  is  for  our  compact  good. 
Thou  under-signest  merely  with  a  drop  of  blood. 

FAUST 

If  this  will  satisfy  thy  mind, 
Thy  whim  I'll  gratify,  howe'er  absurd. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Blood  is  a  juice  of  very  special  kind. 

FAUST 

Be  not  afraid  that  I  shall  break  my  word  I 
The  scope  of  all  my  energy 
Is  in  exact  accordance  with  my  vow. 
Vainly  I  have  aspired  too  high; 
I'm  on  a  level  but  with  such  as  thou; 
Me  the  great  spirit  scorn M,  defied; 
Nature  from  me  herself  doth  hide ; 
Rent  is  the  web  of  thought;  my  mind 
Doth  knowledge  loathe  of  every  kind. 

VOL.  1  —  20 


306  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

In  depths  of  sensual  pleasure  drown 'd, 
Let  us  our  fiery  passions  still! 
Enwrapp'd  in  magic's  veil  profound, 
Let  wondrous  charms  our  senses  thrill! 
Plunge  we  in  time's  tempestuous  flow, 
Stem  we  the  rolling  surge  of  chance! 
There  may  alternate  weal  and  woe, 
Success  and  failure,  as  they  can, 
Mingle  and  shift  in  changeful  dance! 
Excitement  is  the  sphere  for  man. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Nor  goal,  nor  measure  is  prescrib'd  to  you, 
If  you  desire  to  taste  of  every  thing, 
To  snatch  at  joy  while  on  the  wing, 
May  your  career  amuse  and  profit  too! 
Only  fall  to  and  don't  be  over  coy! 

FAUST 

Hearken!     The  end  I  aim  at  is  not  joy; 

I  crave  excitement,  agonizing  bliss, 

Enamor'd  hatred,  quickening  vexation. 

Purg'd  from  the  love  of  knowledge,  my  vocation, 

The  scope  of  all  my  powers  henceforth  be  this, 

To  bare  my  breast  to  every  pang, —  to  know 

In  my  heart's  core  all  human  weal  and  woe, 

To  grasp  in  thought  the  lofty  and  the  deep, 

Men's  various  fortunes  on  my  breast  to  heap, 

And  thus  to  theirs  dilate  my  individual  mind, 

And  share  at  length  with  them  the  shipwreck  of  mankind. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Oh,  credit  me,  who  still  as  ages  roll, 
Have  chew'd  this  bitter  fare  from  year  to  year, 
No  mortal,  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier, 
Digests  the  ancient  leaven!     Know,  this  Whole 
Doth  for  the  Deity  alone  subsist! 


FAUST  — PART  I  307 

He  in  eternal  brightness  doth  exist ; 

Us  unto  darkness  he  hath  brought,  and  here, 

Where  day  and  night  alternate,  is  your  sphere. 

FAUST 
But  'tis  my  will! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well  spoken,  I  admit! 
But  one  thing  puzzles  me,  my  friend ; 
Time's  short,  art  long;  methinks  'twere  fit 
That  you  to  friendly  counsel  should  attend. 
A  poet  choose  as  your  ally! 
Let  him  thought's  wide  dominion  sweep, 
Each  good  and  noble  quality 
Upon  your  honored  brow  to  heap; 
The  lion's  magnanimity, 
The  fleetness  of  the  hind, 
The  fiery  blood  of  Italy, 
The  Northern's  stedfast  mind. 
Let  him  to  you  the  mystery  show 
To  blend  high  aims  and  cunning  low ; 
And  while  youth's  passions  are  aflame 
To  fall  in  love  by  rule  and  plan ! 
I  fain  would  meet  with  such  a  man ; 
Would  him  Sir  Microcosmus  name. 

FAUST 

What  then  am  I,  if  I  aspire  in  vain 
The  crown  of  our  humanity  to  gain, 
Toward  which  my  every  sense  doth  strain? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thou'rt  after  all  — just  what  thou  art. 
Put  on  thy  head  a  wig  with  countless  locks, 
And  to  a  cubit's  height  upraise  thy  socks, 
Still  thou  remainest  ever,  what  thou  art. 


308  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

I  feel  it,  I  have  heap  'd  upon  my  brain 

The  gather 'd  treasure  of  man's  thought  in  vain; 

And  when  at  length  from  studious  toil  I  rest, 

No  power,  new-born,  springs  up  within  my  breast; 

A  hair 's  breadth  is  not  added  to  my  height ; 

I  am  no  nearer  to  the  infinite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Good  sir,  these  things  you  view  indeed, 

Just  as  by  other  men  they're  view'd; 

We  must  more  cleverly  proceed, 

Before  life's  joys  our  grasp  elude. 

The  devil !  thou  hast  hands  and  feet, 

And  head  and  heart  are  also  thine; 

What  I  enjoy  with  relish  sweet  — 

Is  it  on  that  account  less  mine? 

If  for  six  stallions  I  can  pay, 

Do  I  not  own  their  strength  and  speed? 

A  proper  man  I  dash  away, 

As  their  two  dozen  legs  were  mine  indeed. 

Up  then,  from  idle  pondering  free, 

And  forth  into  the  world  with  me ! 

I  tell  you  what;  —  your  speculative  churl 

Is  like  a  beast  which  some  ill  spirit  leads, 

On  barren  wilderness,  in  ceaseless  whirl, 

While  all  around  lie  fair  and  verdant  meads. 

FAUST 
But  how  shall  we  begin? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We  will  go  hence  with  speed, 
A  place  of  torment  this  indeed ! 
A  precious  life,  thyself  to  bore, 
And  some  few  youngsters  evermore ! 
Leave  that  to  neighbor  Paunch!    Withdraw? 
Why  wilt  thou  plague  thyself  with  thrashing  straw? 


FAUST  — PARTI  309 

The  very  best  that  thou  dost  know 
Thou  dar'st  not  to  the  striplings  show. 
One  in  the  passage  now  doth  wait! 

FAUST 
I'm  in  no  mood  to  see  him  now. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Poor  lad !    He  must  be  tired,  I  trow; 
He  must  not  go  disconsolate. 
Hand  me  thy  cap  and  gown;  the  mask 
Is  for  my  purpose  quite  first  rate. 

[He  changes  his  dress.] 
Now  leave  it  to  my  wit !    I  ask 
But  quarter  of  an  hour;  meanwhile  equip, 
And  make  all  ready  for  our  pleasant  trip ! 

[Exit  FAUST.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (in  FAUST 's  long  gown) 
Mortal !  the  loftiest  attributes  of  men, 
Reason  and  Knowledge,  only  thus  contemn; 
Still  let  the  Prince  of  lies,  without  control, 
With  shows,  and  mocking  charms  delude  thy  soul, 
I  have  thee  unconditionally  then!  — 
Fate  hath  endow  'd  him  with  an  ardent  mind, 
Which  unrestrain'd  still  presses  on  forever, 
And  whose  precipitate  endeavor 
Earth's  joys  o'erleaping,  leaveth  them  behind. 
Him  will  I  drag  through  life's  wild  waste, 
Through  scenes  of  vapid  dulness,  where  at  last 
Bewilder 'd,  he  shall  falter,  and  stick  fast; 
And,  still  to  mock  his  greedy  haste, 
Viands  and  drink  shall  float  his  craving  lips  beyond — 
Vainly  he'll  seek  refreshment,  anguish-tost, 
And  were  he  not  the  devil's  by  his  bond, 
Yet  must  his  soul  infallibly  be  lost! 


310  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

A  STUDENT  enters. 

STUDENT 

But  recently  I've  quitted  home, 
Full  of  devotion  am  I  come 
A  man  to  know  and  hear,  whose  name 
With  reverence  is  known  to  fame. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Your  courtesy  much  flatters  me ! 

A  man  like  other  men  you  see ; 

Pray  have  you  yet  applied  elsewhere? 

STUDENT 

I  would  entreat  your  friendly  care ! 
I've  youthful  blood  and  courage  high; 
Of  gold  I  bring  a  fair  supply ; 
To  let  me  go  my  mother  was  not  fain ; 
But  here  I  longed  true  knowledge  to  attain. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You've  hit  upon  the  very  place. 

STUDENT 

And  yet  my  steps  I  would  retrace. 

These  walls,  this  melancholy  room, 

0  'erpower  me  with  a  sense  of  gloom ; 

The  space  is  narrow,  nothing  green, 

No  friendly  tree  is  to  be  seen: 

And  in  these  halls,  with  benches  rilled,  distraught, 

Sight,  hearing  fail  me,  and  the  power  of  thought. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

It  all  depends  on  habit.    Thus  at  first 

The  infant  takes  not  kindly  to  the  breast, 

But  before  long,  its  eager  thirst 

Is  fain  to  slake  with  hearty  zest : 

Thus  at  the  breasts  of  wisdom  day  by  day 

With  keener  relish  you'll  your  thirst  allay. 


FAUST  — PART  I  311 

STUDENT 

Upon  her  neck  I  fain  would  hang  with  joy ; 
To  reach  it,  say,  what  means  must  I  employ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Explain,  ere  further  time  we  lose, 
What  special  faculty  you  choose? 

STUDENT 

Profoundly  learned  I  would  grow, 
What  heaven  contains  would  comprehend, 
O'er  earth's  wide  realm  my  gaze  extend, 
Nature  and  science  I  desire  to  know. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  are  upon  the  proper  track,  I  find; 
Take  heed,  let  nothing  dissipate  your  mind. 

STUDENT 

My  heart  and  soul  are  in  the  chase ! 
Though,  to  be  sure,  I  fain  would  seize, 
On  pleasant  summer  holidays, 
A  little  liberty  and  careless  ease. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Use  well  your  time,  so  rapidly  it  flies ; 
Method  will  teach  you  time  to  win ; 
Hence,  my  young  friend,  I  would  advise, 
With  college  logic  to  begin! 
Then  will  your  mind  be  so  well  braced, 
In  Spanish  boots  so  tightly  laced, 
That  on  'twill  circumspectly  creep, 
Thought's  beaten  track  securely  keep, 
Nor  will  it,  igms-fatuus  like, 
Into  the  path  of  error  strike. 
Then  many  a  day  they'll  teach  you  how 
The  mind's  spontaneous  acts,  till  now 
As  eating  and  as  drinking  free, 
Require  a  process ;  —  one !  two !  three ! 
In  truth  the  subtle  web  of  thought 


312  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Is  like  the  weaver's  fabric  wrought: 

One  treadle  moves  a  thousand  lines, 

Swift  dart  the  shuttles  to  and  fro, 

Unseen  the  threads  together  flow, 

A  thousand  knots  one  stroke  combines. 

Then  forward  steps  your  sage  to  show, 

And  prove  to  you,  it  must  be  so ; 

The  first  being  so,  and  so  the  second, 

The  third  and  fourth  deduc'd  we  see; 

And  if  there  were  no  first  and  second, 

Nor  third  nor  fourth  would  ever  be. 

This,  scholars  of  all  countries  prize, — 

Yet  'mong  themselves  no  weavers  rise. 

He  who  would  know  and  treat  of  aught  alive, 

Seeks  first  the  living  spirit  thence  to  drive : 

Then  are  the  lifeless  fragments  in  his  hand, 

There  only  fails,  alas !  the  spirit-band. 

This  process,  chemists  name,  in  learned  thesis, 

Mocking  themselves,  Naturae  encheiresis. 

STUDENT 
Your  words  I  cannot  fully  comprehend. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  a  short  time  you  will  improve,  my  friend, 
When  of  scholastic  forms  you  learn  the  use; 
And  how  by  method  all  things  to  reduce. 

STUDENT 

So  doth  all  this  my  brain  confound, 
As  if  a  mill-wheel  there  were  turning  round. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  next,  before  aught  else  you  learn, 

You  must  witfc.  zeal  to  metaphysics  turn ! 

There  see  that  you  profoundly  comprehend 

What  doth  the  limit  of  man's  brain  transcend; 

For  that  which  is  or  is  not  in  the  head 

A  sounding  phrase  will  serve  you  in  good  stead. 


FAUST  — PARTI  313 

But  before  all  strive  this  half  year 
From  one  fix'd  order  ne'er  to  swerve! 
Five  lectures  daily  you  must  hear ; 
The  hour  still  punctually  observe  1 
Yourself  with  studious  zeal  prepare, 
And  closely  in  your  manual  look, 
Hereby  may  you  be  quite  aware 
That  all  he  utters  standeth  in  the  book ; 
Yet  write  away  without  cessation, 
As  at  the  Holy  Ghost's  dictation! 

STUDENT 

This,  Sir,  a  second  time  you  need  not  say  I 
Your  counsel  I  appreciate  quite; 
What  we  possess  in  black  and  white 
We  can  in  peace  and  comfort  bear  away. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  faculty  I  pray  you  name. 

STUDENT 

For  jurisprudence  some  distaste  I  own. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

To  me  this  branch  of  science  is  well  known, 

And  hence  I  cannot  your  repugnance  blame. 

Customs  and  laws  in  every  place, 

Like  a  disease,  and  heir-loom  dread, 

Still  trail  their  curse  from  race  to  race, 

And  furtively  abroad  they  spread. 

To  nonsense,  reason's  self  they  turn; 

Beneficence  becomes  a  pest; 

Woe  unto  thee,  that  thou'rt  a  grandson  born! 

As  for  the  law  born  with  us,  unexpressed ;  — 

That  law,  alas,  none  careth  to  discern. 

STUDENT 

You  deepen  my  dislike.    The  youth 
Whom  you  instruct,  is  blest  in  sooth ! 
To  try  theology  I  feel  inclined. 


314  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  would  not  lead  you  willingly  astray, 
But  as  regards  this  science,  you  will  find 
So  hard  it  is  to  shun  the  erring  way, 
And  so  much  hidden  poison  lies  therein 
Which  scarce  can  you  discern  from  medicine. 
Here  too  it  is  the  best,  to  listen  but  to  one, 
And  by  the  master's  words  to  swear  alone. 
To  sum  up  all  —  To  words  hold  fast! 
Then  the  safe  gate  securely  pass'd, 
You'll  reach  the  fane  of  certainty  at  last. 

STUDENT 
But  then  some  meaning  must  the  words  convey. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Right!    But  o'er-anxious  thought  you'll  find  of  no  avail; 

For  there  precisely  where  ideas  fail, 

A  word  comes  opportunely  into  play ; 

Most  admirable  weapons  words  are  found, 

On  words  a  system  we  securely  ground, 

In  words  we  can  conveniently  believe, 

Nor  of  a  single  jot  can  we  a  word  bereave. 

STUDENT 

Your  pardon  for  my  importunity ; 
Yet  once  more  must  I  trouble  you: 
On  medicine,  I'll  thank  you  to  supply 
A  pregnant  utterance  or  two ! 
Three  years !  how  brief  the  appointed  tide ! 
The  field,  heaven  knows,  is  all  too  wide ! 
If  but  a  friendly  hint  be  thrown, 
Tis  easier  than  to  feel  one's  way. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (aside) 

I'm  weary  of  the  dry  pedantic  tone, 
And  must  again  the  genuine  devil  play. 

(Aloud) 
Of  medicine  the  spirit's  caught  with  ease, 


FAUST  — PART  I  315 

The  great  and  little  world  you  study  through, 

That  things  may  then  their  course  pursue, 

As  heaven  may  please. 

In  vain  abroad  you  range  through  science's  ample  space, 

Each  man  learns  only  that  which  learn  he  can; 

Who  knows  the  moment  to  embrace, 

He  is  your  proper  man. 

In  person  you  are  tolerably  made, 

Nor  in  assurance  will  you  be  deficient : 

Self-confidence  acquire,  be  not  afraid, 

Others  will  then  esteem  you  a  proficient. 

Learn  chiefly  with  the  sex  to  deal! 

Their  thousand  ahs  and  ohs, 

These  the  sage  doctor  knows, 

He  only  from  one  point  can  heal. 

Assume  a  decent  tone  of  courteous  ease, 

You  have  them  then  to  humor  as  you  please. 

First  a  diploma  must  belief  infuse, 

That  you  in  your  profession  take  the  lead: 

You  then  at  once  those  easy  freedoms  use 

For  which  another  many  a  year  must  plead; 

Learn  how  to  feel  with  nice  address 

The  dainty  wrist ;  —  and  how  to  press, 

With  ardent,  furtive  glance,  the  slender  waist, 

To  feel  how  tightly  it  is  laced. 

STUDENT 
There  is  some  sense  in  that !  one  sees  the  how  and  why. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Gray  is,  young  friend,  all  theory : 
And  green  of  life  the  golden  tree. 

STUDENT 

I  swear  it  seemeth  like  a  dream  to  me. 
May  I  some  future  time  repeat  my  visit, 
To  hear  on  what  your  wisdom  grounds  your  views? 


316  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Command  my  humble  service  when  you  choose. 

STUDENT 

Ere  I  retire,  one  boon  I  must  solicit: 
Here  is  my  album ;  do  not,  Sir,  deny 
This  token  of  your  favor ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Willingly! 
[He  writes  and  returns  the  book.] 

STUDENT  (reads) 
EBITIS  SICUT  DEUS,  SCIENTES  BONUM  ET  MALUM 

[He  reverently  closes  the  book  and  retires.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Let  but  this  ancient  proverb  be  your  rule, 
My  cousin  follow  still,  the  wily  snake, 
And  with  your  likeness  to  the  gods,  poor  fool, 
Ere  long  be  sure  your  poor  sick  heart  will  quake ! 

FAUST  (enters) 
"Whither  away? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

*Tis  thine  our  course  to  steer. 
The  little  world,  and  then  the  great  we'll  view. 
With  what  delight,  what  profit  too, 
Thou 'It  revel  through  thy  gay  career! 

FAUST 

Despite  my  length  of  beard  I  need 
The  easy  manners  that  insure  success ; 
Th'  attempt  I  fear  can  ne'er  succeed; 
To  mingle  in  the  world  I  want  address; 
I  still  have  an  embarrass 'd  air,  and  then 
I  feel  myself  so  small  with  other  men. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Time,  my  good  friend,  will  all  that's  needful  give; 
Be  only  self-possessed,  and  thou  hast  learn 'd  to  live. 


FAUST  — PARTI  317 

FAUST 

But  how  are  we  to  start,  I  pray! 

Steeds,  servants,  carriage,  where  are  they? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We've  but  to  spread  this  mantle  wide, 
'Twill  serve  whereon  through  air  to  ride ; 
No  heavy  baggage  need  you  take, 
When  we  our  bold  excursion  make. 
A  little  gas,  which  I  will  soon  prepare, 
Lifts  us  from  earth;  aloft  through  air, 
Light-laden,  we  shall  swiftly  steer; — 
I  wish  you  joy  of  your  new  life-career. 

AUEEBACH'S  CELLAR  IN  LEIPZIG 

A  Drinking  Party 
FBOSCH 

No  drinking?    Naught  a  laugh  to  raise? 
None  of  your  gloomy  looks,  I  pray ! 
You,  who  so  bright  were  wont  to  blaze, 
Are  dull  as  wetted  straw  today. 

BBANDEB 

Tis  all  your  fault ;  your  part  you  do  not  bear, 
No  beastliness,  no  folly. 

FBOSCH  (pours  a  glass  of  wine  over  his  head) 

There, 
You  have  them  both ! 

BBANDEB 

You  double  beast ! 

FBOSCH 

'Tis  what  you  ask'd  me  for,  at  least! 

SIEBEL 

Whoever  quarrels,  turn  him  out! 

With  open  throat  drink,  roar,  and  shout. 

Hollo  1    Hollo!    Ho! 


318  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

AL.TMAYEE 

Zounds,  fellow,  cease  your  deaf'ning  cheers! 
Bring  cotton-wool!    He  splits  my  ears. 

SEEBEL 

'Tis  when  the  roof  rings  back  the  tone, 

Then  first  the  full  power  of  the  bass  is  known. 

FROSCH 

Right!  out  with  him  who  takes  offence! 
A!  tara  lara  da! 

ALTMAYEB 

A!  tara  lara  da! 

FEOSCH 

Our  throats  are  tuned.    Come,  let's  commence! 

(Sings) 

The  holy  Roman  empire  now, 
How  holds  it  still  together? 

BBANDEB 

An  ugly  song !  a  song  political ! 

A  song  offensive !    Thank  God,  every  morn, 

To  rule  the  Roman  empire  that  you  were  not  born  I 

I  bless  my  stars  at  least  that  mine  is  not 

Either  a  kaiser's  or  a  chancellor's  lot. 

Yet,  'among  ourselves,  should  one  still  lord  it  o'er  the  rest; 

That  we  elect  a  pope  I  now  suggest. 

Ye  know  what  quality  insures 

A  man's  success,  his  rise  secures. 

FROSCH  (sings) 

Bear,  lady  nightingale  above, 
Ten  thousand  greetings  to  my  love. 

SIEBEL 

No    greetings    to    a    sweetheart!      No    love-songs    shall 
there  be! 


FAUST  — PART  I  319 

FROSCH 

Love-greetings  and  love-kisses !    Thou  shall  not  hinder  me  I 

(Sings) 

Undo  the  bolt !  in  stilly  night, 
Undo  the  bolt !  the  lover  wakes. 
Shut  to  the  bolt !  when  morning  breaks. 

SIEBEL 

Ay,  sing,  sing  on,  praise  her  with  all  thy  might ! 
My  turn  to  laugh  will  come  some  day. 
Me  hath  she  jilted  once,  you  the  same  trick  she'll  play.      ' 
Some  gnome  her  lover  be !  where  cross-roads  meet, 
With  her  to  play  the  fool ;  or  old  he-goat, 
From  Blocksberg  coming  in  swift  gallop,  bleat 
A  good  night  to  her  from  his  hairy  throat ! 
A  proper  lad  of  genuine  flesh  and  blood, 
Is  for  the  damsel  far  too  good; 
The  greeting  she  shall  have  from  me, 
To  smash  her  window-panes  will  be ! 

BRANDEB  (striking  on  the  table) 
Silence !    Attend !  to  me  give  ear ! 
Confess,  sirs,  I  know  how  to  live : 
Some  love-sick  folk  are  sitting  here ! 
Hence,  'tis  but  fit,  their  hearts  to  cheer, 
That  I  a  good-night  strain  to  them  should  give. 
Hark !  of  the  newest  fashion  is  my  song ! 
Strike  boldly  in  the  chorus,  clear  and  strong ! 

(He  sings) 

Once  in  a  cellar  li ved  a  rat, 
He  feasted  there  on  butter, 
Until  his  paunch  became  as  fat 
As  that  of  Doctor  Luther. 
The  cook  laid  poison  for  the  guest, 
Then  was  his  heart  with  pangs  oppress 'd, 

As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

i 

CHORUS  (shouting) 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 


320  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

BBANDEB 

He  ran  around,  he  ran  abroad, 

Of  every  puddle  drinking. 

The  house  with  rage  he  scratch 'd  and  gnaw'd, 

In  vain, —  he  fast  was  sinking; 

Full  many  an  anguish 'd  bound  he  gave, 

Nothing  the  hapless  brute  could  save, 

As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

CHORUS 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

BBANDEB 

By  torture  driven,  in  open  day, 

The  kitchen  he  invaded, 

Convulsed  upon  the  hearth  he  lay, 

With  anguish  sorely  jaded; 

The  poisoner  laugh 'd;  Ha!  ha!  quoth  she, 

His  life  is  ebbing  fast,  I  see, 

As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

CHORUS 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

SIEBEL 

How  the  dull  boors  exulting  shout ! 
Poison  for  the  poor  rats  to  strew 
A  fine  exploit  it  is  no  doubt. 

BBANDER 

They,  as  it  seems,  stand  well  with  you ! 

ALTMAYEB 

Old  bald-pate !  with  the  paunch  profound ! 
The  rat 's  mishap  hath  tamed  his  nature ; 
For  he  his  counterpart  ha,th  found 
Depicted  in  the  swollen  creature. 


FAUST  — PART  I  321 

FAUST  AND  MEPHISTOPHELES 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  now  must  introduce  to  you 
Before  aught  else,  this  jovial  crew, 
To  show  how  lightly  life  may  glide  away; 
With  the  folk  here  each  day's  a  holiday. 
With  little  wit  and  much  content, 
Each  on  his  own  small  round  intent, 
Like  sportive  kitten  with  its  tail; 
While  no  sick-headache  they  bewail, 
And  while  their  host  will  credit  give, 
Joyous  and  free  from  care  they  live. 

BBANDEB 

They're  off  a  journey,  that  is  clear, — 

From  their  strange  manners ;  they  have  scarce  been  here 

An  hour. 

FBOSCH 

You're  right!    Leipzig's  the  place  for  mel 
'Tis  quite  a  little  Paris ;  people  there 
Acquire  a  certain  easy,  finish 'd  air. 

SIEBEL 
What  take  you  now  these  travelers  to  be? 

FBOSCH 

Let  me  alone!    O'er  a  full  glass  you'll  see, 
As  easily  I'll  worm  their  secret  out 
As  draw  an  infant's  tooth.    I've  not  a  doubt 
That  my  two  gentlemen  are  nobly  born ; 
They  look  dissatisfied  and  full  of  scorn. 

BBANDEB 

They  are  but  mountebanks,  I'll  lay  a  bet! 

ALTMAYEB  . 

Most  like. 

Vou  1  —  21 


322  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FROSCH 

Mark  me,  I'll  screw  it  from  them  yet! 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  FAUST ) 

These  fellows  would  not  scent  the  devil  out, 
E  'en  though  he  had  them  by  the  very  throat ! 

FAUST 
Good-morrow,  gentlemen! 

SIEBEL 

Thanks  for  your  fair  salute. 
[Aside,  glancing  at  MEPHISTOPHELES.] 
How!  goes  the  fellow  on  a  halting  foot? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Is  it  permitted  here  with  you  to  sit? 

Then,  though  good  wine  is  not  forthcoming  here, 

Good  company  at  least  our  hearts  will  cheer. 

ALTMAYER 

A  dainty  gentleman,  no  doubt  of  it ! 

FROSCH 

You're  doubtless  recently  from  Eippach?    Pray, 
Did  you  with  Master  Hans  there  chance  to  sup? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Today  we  pass  'd  him,  but  we  did  not  stop ! 
When  last  we  met  him  he  had  much  to  say 
Touching  his  cousins,  and  to  each  he  sent 
Full  many  a  greeting  and  kind  compliment. 

[With  an  inclination  toward  FROSCH.] 

ALTMAYER  (aside  to  FROSCH) 
You  have  it  there ! 

SIEBEL 

Faith !  he 's  a  knowing  one ! 

FROSCH 
Have  patience!    I  will  show  him  up  anon! 


FAUST  — PART  I  323 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We  heard  erewhile,  unless  I'm  wrong, 
Voices  well  trained  in  chorus  pealing? 
Certes,  most  choicely  here  must  song 
Ee-echo  from  this  vaulted  ceiling ! 

FEOSCH 
That  you're  an  amateur  one  plainly  seesl 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Oh  no,  though  strong  the  love,  I  cannot  boast  much  skill. 

ALTMAYEB 

Give  us  a  song ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

As  many  as  you  will. 

SIEBEL 

But  be  it  a  brand  new  one,  if  you  please ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  recently  returned  from  Spain  are  we, 
The  pleasant  land  of  wine  and  minstrelsy. 

(Sings) 

A  king  there  was  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  goodly  flea — 

FROSCH 

Hark!  did  you  rightly  catch  the  words!  a  flea! 
An  odd  sort  of  a  guest  he  needs  must  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (sings) 

A  king  there  was  once  reigning, 

Who  had  a  goodly  flea, 

Him  loved  he  without  feigning, 

As  his  own  son  were  he ! 

His  tailor  then  he  summon 'd  — 

The  tailor  to  him  goes : 

Now  measure  me  the  youngster 

For  jerkin  and  for  hose ! 


324  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

BEANDEB 

Take  proper  heed,  the  tailor  strictly  charge, 

The  nicest  measurement  to  take, 

And  as  he  loves  his  head,  to  make 

The  hose  quite  smooth  and  not  too  large  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  satin  and  in  velvet, 
Behold  the  younker  dressed; 
Bedizen 'd  o'er  with  ribbons, 
A  cross  upon  his  breast. 
Prime  minister  they  made  him; 
He  wore  a  star  of  state ; 
And  all  his  poor  relations 
Were  courtiers,  rich  and  great. 

The  gentlemen  and  ladies 

At  court  were  sore  distressed ; 

The  queen  and  all  her  maidens 

Were  bitten  by  the  pest, 

And  yet  they  dared  not  scratch  them, 

Or  chase  the  fleas  away. 

If  we  are  bit,  we  catch  them, 

And  crack  without  delay. 

CHOEUS  (shouting) 
If  we  are  bit,  etc. 

FEOSCH 
Bravo !    That 's  the  song  for  me ! 

SIEBEL 

Such  be  the  fate  of  every  flea ! 

BBANDEB 

With  clever  finger  catch  and  Mil ! 

ALTMAYEB 

Hurrah  for  wine  and  freedom  still  I 


FAUST  —  PAET  I  325 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Were  but  your  wine  a  trifle  better,  friend, 
A  glass  to  freedom  I  would  gladly  drain. 

SIEBEL 

You'd  better  not  repeat  those  words  again  1 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  am  afraid  the  landlord  to  offend; 

Else  freely  would  I  treat  each  worthy  guest 

From  our  own  cellar  to  the  very  best. 

SIEBEL 
Out  with  it  then!    Your  doings  I'll  defend. 

FBOSCH 

Give  a  good  glass,  and  straight  we  '11  praise  you,  one  and  all. 
Only  let  not  your  samples  be  too  small  ; 
For  if  my  judgment  you  desire, 
Certes,  an  ample  mouthful  I  require. 


ALTMAYER 

I  guess,  they're  from  the  Ehenish  land. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Fetch  me  a  gimlet  here  ! 

BBANDEB 

Say,  what  therewith  to  bore! 
You  cannot  have  the  wine-casks  at  the  door? 

ALTMAYEB 

Our  landlord's  tool-basket  behind  doth  yonder  stand. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (takes  the  gimlet) 

(To  FBOSCH) 
Now  only  say!  what  liquor  will  you  take? 

FBOSCH 
How  mean  you  that?    Have  you  of  every  sort? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Each  may  his  own  selection  make. 


326  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ALTMAYEK   (to  FROSCH) 

Ha  !    Ha  !    You  lick  your  lips  already  at  the  thought. 

FEOSCH 

Good,  if  I  have  my  choice,  the  Rhenish  I  propose; 
For  still  the  fairest  gifts  the  fatherland  bestows. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (boring  a  hole  in  the  edge  of  the  table 

opposite  to  where  FEOSCH  is  sitting) 
Get  me  a  little  wax  —  and  make  some  stoppers  —  quick  ! 

ALTMAYEE 

Why,  this  is  nothing  but  a  juggler's  trick! 


MEPHISTOPHELES    (to 

And  you? 

BBANDEB 

Champagne's  the  wine  for  me; 
Right  brisk,  and  sparkling  let  it  be  ! 

[MEPHISTOPHELES  bores,  one  of  the  party  has  in  the 
meantime  prepared  the  wax-stoppers  and  stopped 
the  holes.] 

BBANDEB 

Wtiat  foreign  is  one  always  can't  decline, 

What's  good  is  often  scatter  'd  far  apart. 

The  French  your  genuine  German  hates  with  all  his  heart, 

Yet  has  a  relish  for  their  wine. 

SEEBEL  (as  MEPHISTOPHELES  approaches  him) 
I  like  not  acid  wine,  I  must  allow, 
Give  me  a  glass  of  genuine  sweet  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (bores) 

Tokay 
Shall,  if  you  wish  it,  flow  without  delay. 

ALTMAYEB 

Come  !  look  me  in  the  face  !  no  fooling  now  I 
You  are  but  making  fun  of  us,  I  trow. 


FAUST  — PART  I  327 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ah !  ah !  that  would  indeed  be  making  free 
With  such  distinguished  guests.    Come,  no  delay  5 
What  liquor  can  I  serve  you  with,  I  pray! 

ALTMAYEB 

Only  be  quick,  it  matters  not  to  me. 

[After  the  holes  are  all  bored  and  stopped.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (with  strange  gestures) 

Grapes  the  vine-stock  bears, 

Horns  the  buck-goat  wears ! 

Wine  is  sap,  the  vine  is  wood, 

The  wooden  board  yields  wine  as  good. 

With  a  deeper  glance  and  true 

The  mysteries  of  nature  view! 

Have  faith  and  here 's  a  miracle  1 

Your  stoppers  draw  and  drink  your  fill ! 
ALL,  (as  they  draw  the  stoppers  and  the  wine  chosen  by 

each  runs  into  his  glass) 
Oh  beauteous  spring,  which  flows  so  far ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Spill  not  a  single  drop,  of  this  beware ! 

[They  drink  repeatedly.] 
ATT,  (sing) 

Happy  as  cannibals  are  we, 
Or  as  five  hundred  swine. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

They're  in  their  glory,  mark  their  elevation! 

PAUST 

Let's  hence,  nor  here  our  stay  prolong. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Attend,  of  brutishness  ere  long 
You'll  see  a  glorious  revelation. 
SIEBEL  (drinks  carelessly;  the  wine  is  spilt  upon  the  ground, 

and  turns  to  flame) 
Hslp !  fire !  help !    Hell  is  burning ! 


328  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (addressing  the  flames) 

Stop, 
Kind  element,  be  still,  I  say! 

(To  the  Company) 
Of  purgatorial  fire  as  yet  'tis  but  a  drop. 

SIEBEL 

What  means  the  knave!    For  this  you'll  dearly  pay! 
Us,  it  appears,  you  do  not  know. 

FROSCH 
Such  tricks  a  second  time  he  'd  better  show ! 

ALTMAYEB 

Methinks  'twere  well  we  pack  'd  him  quietly  away. 

SIEBEL 

What,  sir !  with  us  your  hocus-pocus  play ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Silence,  old  wine-cask! 

SIEBEL 

How!  add  insult,  too! 
Vile  broomstick! 

»  BBANDEB 

Hold !  or  blows  shall  rain  on  yon ! 

ALTMAYEB  (draws  a  stopper  out  of  the  table;  fire  springs 

out  against  him) 
I  burn!  I  burn! 

SIEBEL 

"Pis  sorcery,  I  vow ! 
Strike  home !    The  fellow  is  fair  game,  I  trow ! 

[They  draw  their  knives  and  attack  MEPHISTOPHELES.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (with  solemn  gestures) 
Visionary  scenes  appear! 
Words  delusive  cheat  the  ear! 
Be  ye  there,  and  be  ye  here ! 
[They  stand  amazed  and  gaze  at  one  another.] 


FAUST  — PART  I  329 

ALTMAYEE 

Where  am  I?    What  a  beauteous  land! 

PBOSCH 
Vineyards!  unless  my  sight  deceives? 

SIEBEL 

And  clust'ring  grapes  too,  close  at  hand! 

BRANDEB 

And  underneath  the  spreading  leaves, 
What  stems  there  be !    What  grapes  I  see ! 

[He  seizes  SIEBEL  by  the  nose.    The  others  recipro- 
cally do  the  same,  and  raise  their  knives.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (ttS    above) 

Delusion,  from  their  eyes  the  bandage  take! 
Note  how  the  devil  loves  a  jest  to  break  I 

[He  disappears  with  FATJST;  the  fellows  draw  back 
from  one  another.] 

SIEBEL 

What  was  it? 

ALTMAYEB 

How? 

FBOSCH 

Was  that  your  nose? 

BBANDER    (to    SlEBEL) 

And  look,  my  hand  doth  thine  inclose ! 

ALTMAYEB 

I  felt  a  shock,  it  went  through  every  limb ! 
A  chair!    I'm  fainting!    All  things  swim! 

FBOSCH 
Say!    What  has  happened?    What's  it  all  about? 

SIEBEL 

Where  is  the  fellow?    Could  I  scent  him  out, 
His  body  from  his  soul  I'd  soon  divide! 


330  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ALTMAYEK 

With  my  own  eyes,  upon  a  cask  astride, 

Forth  through  the  cellar-door  I  saw  him  ride  — 

Heavy  as  lead  my  feet  are  growing. 

[Turning  to  the  table.] 
I  wonder  is  the  wine  still  flowing ! 

SIEBEL 

'Twas  all  delusion,  cheat  and  lie. 

FROSCH 
Twas  wine  I  drank,  most  certainly. 

BBANDEB 

But  with  the  grapes  how  was  it,  pray? 

ALTMAYEB 

That  none  may  miracles  believe,  who  now  will  say? 


WITCHES'  KITCHEN 

A  large  caldron  hangs  over  the  fire  on  a  low  hearth;  various  figures  appear 
in  the  vapor  rising  from  it.  A  FEMALE  MONKEY  sits  beside  the  caldron 
to  skim  it,  and  watch  that  it  does  not  boil  over.  The  MALE  MONKEY 
with  the  young  ones  is  seated  near,  warming  himself.  The  walls  and 
ceiling  are  adorned  with  the  strangest  articles  of  witch- furniture. 

FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES 

FAUST 

This  senseless,  juggling  witchcraft  I  detest  I 
Dost  promise  that  in  this  foul  nest 
Of  madness  I  shall  be  restored? 
Must  I  seek  counsel  from  an  ancient  dame  ? 
And  can  she,  by  these  rites  abhorred, 
Take  thirty  winters  from  my  frame  ? 
Woe 's  me,  if  thou  naught  better  canst  suggest  I 
Hope  has  already  fled  my  breast. 
Has  neither  nature  nor  a  noble  mind 
A  balsam  yet  devis'd  of  any  kind? 


FAUST  — PART  I  331 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

My  friend,  you  now  speak  sensibly.     In  truth, 
Nature  a  method  giveth  to  renew  thy  youth: 
But  in  another  book  the  lesson's  writ;  — 
It  forms  a  curious  chapter,  I  admit. 

FAUST 

I  fain  would  know  it. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Good!    A  remedy 

Without  physician,  gold,  or  sorcery: 
Away  forthwith,  and  to  the  fields  repair; 
Begin  to  delve,  to  cultivate  the  ground ; 
Thy  senses  and  thyself  confine 
Within  the  very  narrowest  round ; 
Support  thyself  upon  the  simplest  fare ; 
Live  like  a  very  brute  the  brutes  among; 
Neither  esteem  it  robbery 
The  acre  thou  dost  reap,  thyself  to  dung. 
This  the  best  method,  credit  me, 
Again  at  eighty  to  grow  hale  and  young. 

FAUST 

I  am  not  used  to  it,  nor  can  myself  degrade 
So  far,  as  in  my  hand  to  take  the  spade. 
This  narrow  life  would  suit  me  not  at  all. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Then  we  the  witch  must  summon  after  alL 

FAUST 

Will  none  but  this  old  beldame  do? 
Canst  not  thyself  the  potion  brew? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  pretty  play  our  leisure  to  beguile! 
A  thousand  bridges  I  could  build  meanwhile. 
Not  science  only  and  consummate  art  — 
Patience  must  also  bear  her  part. 


332  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

A  quiet  spirit  worketh  whole  years  long ; 

Time  only  makes  the  subtle  ferment  strong. 

And  all  things  that  belong  thereto, 

Are  wondrous  and  exceeding  rare ! 

The  devil  taught  her,  it  is  true ; 

But  yet  the  draught  the  devil  can't  prepare. 

[Perceiving  the  beasts.] 
Look  yonder,  what  a  dainty  pair! 
Here  is  the  maid !  the  knave  is  there ! 

(To  the  beasts) 
It  seems  your  dame  is  not  at  home? 

THE   MONKEYS 

Gone  to  carouse, 
Out  of  the  house, 
Thro*  the  chimney  and  away! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

How  long  is  it  her  wont  to  roam? 

THE   MONKEYS 

While  we  can  warm  our  paws  she  '11  stay. 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  FAUST ) 

What  think  you  of  the  charming  creatures? 

FAUST 
1  loathe  alike  their  form  and  features  1 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Nay,  such  discourse,  be  it  confessed, 

Is  just  the  thing  that  pleases  me  the  best. 

(To  the  MONKEYS) 
Tell  me,  ye  whelps,  accursed  crew! 
What  stir  ye  in  the  broth  about  ? 

MONKEYS 
Coarse  beggar's  gruel  here  we  stew. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  customers  you'll  have  a  rout. 


FAUST  — PART  I  333 

THE  HE-MONKEY  (approaching  and  fawning  on 

MEPHISTOPHELES  ) 

Quick !  quick !  throw  the  dice, 
Make  me  rich  in  a  trice, 
Oh  give  me  the  prize! 
Alas,  for  myself, 
Had  I  plenty  of  pelf, 
I  then  should  be  wise. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

How  blest  the  ape  would  think  himself,  if  he 
Could  only  put  into  the  lottery! 

[In  the  meantime  the  young  MONKEYS  have  been  playing 
with  a  large  globe,  which  they  roll  forward.] 

THE   HE-MONKEY 

The  world  behold; 

Unceasingly  roll'd, 

It  riseth  and  falleth  ever; 

It  ringeth  like  glass! 

How  brittle,  alas! 

'Tis  hollow,  and  resteth  never. 

How  bright  the  sphere, 

Still  brighter  here ! 

Now  living  am  I ! 

Dear  son,  beware! 

Nor  venture  there! 

Thou  too  must  die! 

It  is  of  clay; 

'Twill  crumble  away; 

There  fragments  lie. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  what  use  is  the  sieve? 

THE  HE-MONKEY  (taking  it  down) 
The  sieve  would  show, 
If  thou  wert  a  thief  or  no? 


334  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

[Re  runs  to  the  SHE-MONKEY,  and  makes  her  look 
through  it.] 

Look  through  the  sieve! 
Dost  know  him  the  thief, 
And  dar'st  thou  not  call  him  so? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (approaching  the  fire) 
And  then  this  pot? 

THE    MONKEYS 

The  half-witted  sot! 
He  knows  not  the  pot! 
He  knows  not  the  kettle! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Unmannerly  beast! 
Be  civil  at  least! 

THE    HE-MONKEY 

Take  the  whisk  and  sit  down  in  the  settle! 

[He  makes  MEPHISTOPHELES  sit  down.] 

FAUST  (who  all  this  time  has  been  standing  before  a  looking- 
glass,  now  approaching,  and  now  retiring  from  it) 

What  do  I  see?  what  form,  whose  charms  transcend 

The  loveliness  of  earth,  is  mirror 'd  here! 

O  Love,  to  waft  me  to  her  sphere, 

To  me  the  swiftest  of  thy  pinions  lend! 

Alas!     If  I  remain  not  rooted  to  this  place, 

If  to  approach  more  near  I'm  fondly  lur'd, 

Her  image  fades,  in  veiling  mist  obscur'd! — 

Model  of  beauty  both  in  form  and  face ! 

Is't  possible?     Hath  woman  charms  so  rare? 

In  this  recumbent  form,  supremely  fair, 

The  essence  must  I  see  of  heavenly  grace? 

Can  aught  so  exquisite  on  earth  be  found? 


FAUST  — PART  I  335 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  six  days'  labor  of  a  god,  my  friend, 

Who  doth  himself  cry  bravo,  at  the  end, 

By  something  clever  doubtless  should  be  crown 'd. 

For  this  time  gaze  your  fill,  and  when  you  please 

Just  such  a  prize  for  you  I  can  provide; 

How  blest  is  he  to  whom  kind  fate  decrees, 

To  take  her  to  his  home,  a  lovely  bride ! 

[FAUST  continues  to  gaze  into  the  mirror.  MEPHIS- 
TOPHELES stretching  himself  on  the  settle  and  play- 
ing with  the  whisk,  continues  to  speak.] 

Here  sit  I,  like  a  king  upon  his  throne ; 

My  sceptre  this;  —  the  crown  I  want  alone. 

THE  MONKEYS  (who  have  hitherto  been  making  all  sorts  of 
strange  gestures,  bring  MEPHISTOPHELES  a  crown,  with 
loud  cries) 

Oh,  be  so  good, 
With  sweat  and  with  blood 
The  crown  to  lime  I 

[They  handle  the  crown  awkwardly  and  break  it  in  two 
pieces,  with  which  they  skip  about.] 
'Twas  fate's  decree! 
We  speak  and  see ! 
We  hear  and  rhyme. 

FAUST  (before  the  mirror) 
Woe's  me!  well-nigh  distraught  I  feel! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (pointing  to  the  beasts) 
And  even  my  own  head  almost  begins  to  reel. 

THE   MONKEYS 

If  good  luck  attend, 
If  fitly  things  blend, 
Our  jargon  with  thought 
And  with  reason  is  fraught! 


336  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST  (as  above) 
A  flame  is  kindled  in  my  breast! 
Let  us  begone !  nor  linger  here ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (in  the  same  position) 
It  now  at  least  must  be  confessed, 
That  poets  sometimes  are  sincere. 

[The  caldron  which  the  SHE-MONKEY  has  neglected  begins 
to  boil  over;  a  great  flame  arises,  which  streams  up  the 
chimney.  The  WITCH  comes  down  the  chimney  with 
horrible  cries.} 

THE   WITCH 

Ough!  ough!  ough!  ough! 
Accursed  brute!  accursed  sow  I 
The  caldron  dost  neglect,  for  shame ! 
Accursed  brute  to  scorch  the  dame ! 
(Perceiving  FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES.) 
Whom  have  we  here  I 
Who's  sneaking  here? 
Whence  are  ye  come? 
With  what  desire? 
The  plague  of  fire 
Your  bones  consume! 

[She  dips  the  skimming-ladle  into  the  caldron  and  throws 
flames  at  FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES,  and  the  MONKEYS. 
The  MONKEYS  whimper.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (twirling  the  whisk  which  he  holds  in  his 
hand,  and  striking  among  the  glasses  and  pots) 

Dash !    Smash  1 

There  lies  the  glass! 

There  lies  the  slime! 

'Tis  but  a  jest; 

I  but  keep  time, 

Thou  hellish  pest, 

To  thine  own  chime! 

[While  the  WITCH  steps  back  in  rage  and  astonishment.] 
Dost  know  me !     Skeleton !     Vile  scarecrow,  thou ! 


FAUST  — PART  I  337 

Thy  lord  and  master  dost  thou  know? 
What  holds  me,  that  I  deal  not  now 
Thee  and  thine  apes  a  stunning  blow? 
No  more  respect  to  my  red  vest  dost  pay? 
Does  my  cock's  feather  no  allegiance  claim? 
Have  I  my  visage  masked  today? 
Must  I  be  forced  myself  to  name? 

THE  WITCH 

Master,  forgive  this  rude  salute! 
But  I  perceive  no  cloven  foot. 
And  your  two  ravens,  where  are  they? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

This  once  I  must  admit  your  plea;  — 

For  truly  I  must  own  that  we 

Each  other  have  not  seen  for  many  a  day. 

The  culture,  too,  that  shapes  the  world,  at  last 

Hath  e  'en  the  devil  in  its  sphere  embraced ; 

The  northern  phantom  from  the  scene  hath  pass  'd ; 

Tail,  talons,  horns,  are  nowhere  to  be  traced! 

As  for  the  foot,  with  which  I  can't  dispense, 

'Twould  injure  me  in  company,  and  hence, 

Like  many  a  youthful  cavalier, 

False  calves  I  now  have  worn  for  many  a  year. 

THE  WITCH  (dancing) 

I  am  beside  myself  with  joy, 

To  see  once  more  the  gallant  Satan  here! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Woman,  no  more  that  name  employ! 

THE   WITCH 

But  why?  what  mischief  hath  it  done? 
VOL.  1  —  22 


338  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

To  fable-books  it  now  doth  appertain ; 

But  people  from  the  change  have  nothing  won. 

Bid  of  the  evil  one,  the  evil  ones  remain. 

Lord  Baron  call  thou  me,  so  is  the  matter  good; 

Of  other  cavaliers  the  mien  I  wear. 

Dost  make  no  question  of  my  gentle  blood ; 

See  here,  this  is  the  scutcheon  that  I  bear ! 

[He  makes  an  unseemly  gesture.] 

THE  WITCH  (laughing  immoderately) 
Ha!     Ha!     Just  like  yourself!     You  are,  I  ween, 
The  same  mad  wag  that  you  have  ever  been! 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  FAUST) 

My  friend,  learn  this  to  understand,  I  pray! 
To  deal  with  witches  this  is  still  the  way. 

THE   WITCH 

Now  tell  me,  gentlemen,  what  you  desire? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  your  known  juice  a  goblet  we  require. 
But  for  the  very  oldest  let  me  ask; 
Double  its  strength  with  years  doth  grow. 

THE  WITCH 

Most  willingly!     And  here  I  have  a  flask, 
From  which  I've  sipp'd  myself  ere  now; 
What's  more,  it  doth  no  longer  stink; 
To  you  a  glass  I  joyfully  will  give. 

(Aside.) 

If  unprepar'd,  however,  this  man  drink, 
He  hath  not,  as  you  know,  an  hour  to  live. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

He's  my  good  friend,  with  whom  'twill  prosper  well; 
I  grudge  him  not  the  choicest  of  thy  store. 
Now  draw  thy  circle,  speak  thy  spell, 
And  straight  a  bumper  for  him  pour! 


FAUST  — PART  I  339 

[The  WITCH,  with  extraordinary  gestures,  describes  a 
circle,  and  places  strange  things  ivithin  it.  The 
glasses  meanwhile  begin  to  ring,  and  the  caldron 
to  sound  and  make  music.  Lastly,  she  brings  a 
great  book;  places  the  MONKEYS  in  the  circle  to 
serve  her  as  a  desk,  and  to  hold  the  torches.  She 
beckons  FAUST  to  approach.] 

FAUST  (to  MEPHISTOPHELES) 
Tell  me,  to  what  doth  all  this  tend? 
Where  will  these  frantic  gestures  end? 
This  loathsome  cheat,  this  senseless  stuff 
I've  known  and  hated  long  enough. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Mere  mummery,  a  laugh  to  raise! 
Pray  don't  be  so  fastidious!     <She 
But  as  a  leech,  her  hocus-pocus  plays, 
That  well  with  you  her  potion  may  agree. 

[He  compels  FAUST  to  enter  the  circle.] 

[The  WITCH,  with  great  emphasis,  begins  to  declaim  from 

the  book.] 

This  must  thou  ken: 
Of  one  make  ten, 
Pass  two,  and  then 
Make  square  the  three, 
So  rich  thou 'It  be. 
Drop  out  the  four! 
From  five  and  six, 
Thus  says  the  witch, 
Make  seven  and  eight. 
So  all  is  straight! 
And  nine  is  one, 
And  ten  is  none, 
This  is  the  witch's  one-time-one! 

FAUST 
The  hag  doth  as  in  fever  rave. 


340  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

To  these  will  follow  many  a  stave. 

I  know  it  well,  so  rings  the  book  throughout; 

Much  time  I've  lost  in  puzzling  o'er  its  pages, 

For  downright  paradox,  no  doubt, 

A  mystery  remains  alike  to  fools  and  sages. 

Ancient  the  art  and  modern  too,  my  friend. 

'Tis  still  the  fashion  as  it  used  to  be, 

Error  instead  of  truth  abroad  to  send 

By  means  of  three  and  one,  and  one  and  three. 

'Tis  ever  taught  and  babbled  in  the  schools. 

Who'd  take  the  trouble  to  dispute  with  fools? 

When  words  men  hear,  in  sooth,  they  usually  believe, 

That  there  must  needs  therein  be  something  to  conceive. 

THE  WITCH  (continues) 

The  lofty  power 

Of  wisdom's  dower, 

From  all  the  world  conceal 'd  I 

Who  thinketh  not, 

To  him  I  wot, 

Unsought  it  is  reveal 'd. 

FAUST 

What  nonsense  doth  the  hag  propound! 
My  brain  it  doth  well-nigh  confound. 
A  hundred  thousand  fools  or  more, 
Methinks  I  hear  in  chorus  roar. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Incomparable  Sibyl  cease,  I  pray! 
Hand  us  thy  liquor  without  more  delay. 
And  to  the  very  brim  the  goblet  crown! 
My  friend  he  is,  and  need  not  be  afraid; 
Besides,  he  is  a  man  of  many  a  grade, 
Who  hath  drunk  deep  already. 

[The  WITCH,  with  many  ceremonies,  pours  the  liquor 

into  a  cup;  as  FAUST  lifts  it  to  his  mouth,  a  light 

flame  arises.] 


FAUST  — PART  I  341 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Gulp  it  down! 

No  hesitation !     It  will  prove 
A  cordial,  and  your  heart  inspire ! 
What!  with  the  devil  hand  and  glove, 
And  yet  shrink  back  afraid  of  fire? 
[The  WITCH  dissolves  the  circle.    FAUST  steps  out.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  forth  at  once!  thou  dar'st  not  rest. 

WITCH 
And  much,  sir,  may  the  liquor  profit  you! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to    the   WlTCH) 

And  if  to  pleasure  thee  I  aught  can  do, 
Pray  on  Walpurgis  mention  thy  request. 

WITCH 

Here  is  a  song,  sung  o'er,  sometimes  you'll  see, 
That  'twill  a  singular  effect  produce. 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  FAUST ) 

Come,  quick,  and  let  thyself  be  led  by  me; 
Thou  must  perspire,  in  order  that  the  juice 
Thy  frame  may  penetrate  through  every  part. 
Then  noble  idleness  I  thee  will  teach  to  prize, 
And  soon  with  ecstasy  thou 'It  recognize 
How  €upid  stirs  and  gambols  in  thy  heart. 

FAUST 

Let  me  but  gaze  one  moment  in  the  glass! 
Too  lovely  was  that  female  form! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Nay !  nay ! 

A  model  which  all  women  shall  surpass, 
In  flesh  and  blood  ere  long  thou  shalt  survey. 

(Aside.) 

As  works  the  draught,  thou  presently  shalt  greet 
A  Helen  in  each  woman  thou  dost  meet. 


342  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

A  STREET 
FAUST  (MABGABET  passing  by). 

FAUST 

Fair  lady,  may  I  thus  make  free 
To  offer  you  my  arm  and  company? 

MARGARET 

I  am  no  lady,  am  not  fair, 

Can  without  escort  home  repair. 

[She  disengages  herself  and  exit.] 

FAUST 

By  heaven!     This  girl  is  fair  indeed! 
No  form  like  hers  can  I  recall. 
Virtue  she  hath,  and  modest  heed, 
Is  piquant  too,  and  sharp  withal. 
Her  cheek's  soft  light,  her  rosy  lips, 
No  length  of  time  will  e'er  eclipse! 
Her  downward  glance  in  passing  by, 
Deep  in  my  heart  is  stamp 'd  for  aye; 
How  curt  and  sharp  her  answer  too, 
To  ecstasy  the  feeling  grew! 

[MEPHISTOPHELES  enters.] 

FAUST 
This  girl  must  win  for  me!     Dost  heart 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Which? 

FAUST 

She  who  but  now  passed. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What!     She? 

She  from  confession  cometh  here, 
From  every  sin  absolved  and  free; 
I  crept  near  the  confessor's  chair. 
All  innocence  her  virgin  soul, 
For  next  to  nothing  went  she  there; 
O'er  such  as  she  I've  no  control! 


• 


> 


342  rERMAN  CLASSICS 

BEET 

(MABQARET  passing  by). 

FAUST 

I  thus  make  free 
rm  and  company? 

MAF.GARET 

.  am  not  fair/ 
Cw  escort  home  repair. 

[She  disengages  herself  and  exit.] 

FAUST 

!     This  girl  is  fair  indeed! 
ike  hers  can  I  recall. 
•  hath,  and  modest  heed, 
and  sharp  withal. 

t,  her  rosy  lips, 
irth  of  tiMMfflfrWr  eclipse! 
r  downward  glance  in  passing  by, 
p  in  my  heart  is  stamp 'd  for  aye; 
/  curt  and  sharp  her  answer  too, 
To  ecstasy  the  feeling  gr 

[MEPHISTOPHn 
FAUST 

1  must  win  for  me!     Dost  hear? 

MEPHISTOPHELEB 


sed. 


What!     She! 

here, 
'1  free; 
From  tfafy  /xfc&ur. 


For  she  there; 

O'er  an  ontrol! 


FAUST  — PART  I  343 

FAUST 

She's  past  fourteen. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  really  talk 
Like  any  gay  Lothario, 
Who  every  floweret  from  its  stalk 
Would  pluck,  and  deems  nor  grace,  nor  truth, 
Secure  against  his  arts,  forsooth! 
This  ne'er  the  less  won't  always  do. 

FAUST 

Sir  Moralizer,  prithee,  pause; 
Nor  plague  me  with  your  tiresome  laws  I 
To  cut  the  matter  short,  my  friend, 
She  must  this  very  night  be  mine, — 
And  if  to  help  me  you  decline, 
Midnight  shall  see  our  compact  end. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  may  occur  just  bear  in  mind! 
A  fortnight's  space,  at  least,  I  need, 
A  fit  occasion  but  to  find. 

FAUST 

With  but  seven  hours  I  could  succeed; 
Nor  should  I  want  the  devil's  wile, 
So  young  a  creature  to  beguile. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Like  any  Frenchman  now  you  speak, 
But  do  not  fret,  I  pray;  why  seek 
To  hurry  to  enjoyment  straight? 
The  pleasure  is  not  half  so  great, 
As  when  at  first,  around,  above, 
With  all  the  fooleries  of  love, 
The  puppet  you  can  knead  and  mold 
As  in  Italian  story  oft  is  told. 

FAUST 
No  such  incentives  do  I  need. 


344  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  now,  without  offence  or  jest ! 
You  cannot  quickly,  I  protest, 
In  winning  this  sweet  child  succeed. 
By  storm  we  cannot  take  the  fort, 
To  stratagem  we  must  resort. 

FAUST 

Conduct  me  to  her  place  of  restl 
Some  token  of  the  angel  bring! 
A  kerchief  from  her  snowy  breast, 
A  garter  bring  me  —  any  thing ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

That  I  my  anxious  zeal  may  prove, 
Your  pangs  to  soothe  and  aid  your  love, 
A  single  moment  will  we  not  delay, 
Will  lead  you  to  her  room  this  very  day. 

FAUST 
And  shall  I  see  her?  —  Have  her? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No! 

She  to  a  neighbor's  house  will  go; 
But  in  her  atmosphere  alone 
The  tedious  hours  meanwhile  you  may  employ 
In  blissful  dreams  of  future  joy. 

FAUST 

Can  we  go  now? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Tis  yet  too  soon. 

FAUST 

Some  present  for  my  love  procure!  [Exit.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Presents  so  soon !  'tis  well !  success  is  sure  I 

Full  many  a  goodly  place  I  know, 

And  treasures  buried  long  ago; 

I  must  a  bit  o'erlook  them  now.  [Exit.] 


FAUST  — PART  I  345 

EVENING.     A  SMALL  AND  NEAT  ROOM 

MARGARET  (braiding  and  binding  up  her  hair) 
I  would  give  something  now  to  know 
Who  yonder  gentleman  could  be! 
He  had  a  gallant  air,  I  trow, 
And  doubtless  was  of  high  degree : 
That  written  on  his  brow  was  seen  — 
Nor  else  would  he  so  bold  have  been. 

[Exit.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Come  in!  tread  softly!  be  discreet! 

FAUST  (after  a  pause) 
Begone  and  leave  me,  I  entreat! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (looking  round) 
Not  every  maiden  is  so  neat. 

[Exit.] 

FAUST  (gazing  round) 
Welcome  sweet  twilight,  calm  and  blest, 
That  in  this  hallow 'd  precinct  reigns! 
Fond  yearning  love,  inspire  my  breast, 
Feeding  on  hope 's  sweet  dew  thy  blissful  pains  I 
What  stillness  here  environs  me! 
Content  and  order  brood  around. 
What  fulness  in  this  poverty! 
In  this  small  cell  what  bliss  profound! 

[He  throws  himself  on  the  leather  arm-chair  beside 

the  bed.] 

Receive  me  thou,  who  hast  in  thine  embrace, 
Welcom'd  in  joy  and  grief  the  ages  flown! 
How  oft  the  children  of  a  by-gone  race 
Have  cluster 'd  round  this  patriarchal  throne! 
Haply  she,  also,  whom  I  hold  so  dear, 
For  Christmas  gift,  with  grateful  joy  possess 'd, 
Hath  with  the  full  round  cheek  of  childhood,  here, 
Her  grandsire's  withered  hand  devoutly  press 'd. 
Maiden!  I  feel  thy  spirit  haunt  the  place, 


346  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Breathing  of  order  and  abounding  grace. 

As  with  a  mother's  voice  it  prompteth  thee 

The  pure  white  cover  o'er  the  board  to  spread, 

To  stew  the  crisping  sand  beneath  thy  tread. 

Dear  hand!  so  godlike  in  its  ministry! 

The  hut  becomes  a  paradise  through  thee! 

And  here —  [He  raises  the  bed-curtain.] 

How  thrills  my  pulse  with  strange  delight! 
Here  could  I  linger  hours  untold; 
Thou,  Nature,  didst  in  vision  bright, 
The  embryo  angel  here  unfold. 
Here  lay  the  child,  her  bosom  warm 
With  life;  while  steeped  in  slumber's  dew, 
To  perfect  grace,  her  godlike  form, 
With  pure  and  hallow 'd  weavings  grew! 

And  thou!  ah  here  what  seekest  thou? 

How  quails  mine  inmost  being  now ! 

What  wouldst  thou  here?  what  makes  thy  heart  so  sore? 

Unhappy  Faust !     I  know  thee  now  no  more. 

Do  I  a  magic  atmosphere  inhale? 
Erewhile,  my  passion  would  not  brook  delay! 
Now  in  a  pure  love-dream  I  melt  away. 
Are  we  the  sport  of  every  passing  gale! 

Should  she  return  and  enter  now, 
How  wouldst  thou  rue  thy  guilty  flame ! 
Proud  vaunter  —  thou  wouldst  hide  thy  brow  — 
And  at  her  feet  sink  down  with  shame. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Quick!  quick!  below  I  see  her  there. 

FAUST 

Away!     I  will  return  no  more! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Here  is  a  casket,  with  a  store 
Of  jewels,  which  I  got  elsewhere. 


FAUST  — PAKT  I  347 

Just  lay  it  in  the  press ;  make  haste ! 
I  swear  to  you,  'twill  turn  her  brain; 
Therein  some  trifles  I  have  placed, 
Wherewith  another  to  obtain. 
But  child  is  child,  and  play  is  play. 

FAUST 
I  know  not  —  shall  I! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Do  you  ask? 

Perchance  you  would  retain  the  treasure  1 
If  such  your  wish,  why  then,  I  say, 
Henceforth  absolve  me  from  my  task, 
Nor  longer  waste  your  hours  of  leisure. 
I  trust  you're  not  by  avarice  led! 
I  rub  my  hands,  I  scratch  my  head, — 

[He  places  the  casket  in  the  press  and  closes  the  lock.] 
Now  quick!     Away! 

That  soon  the  sweet  young  creature  may 
The  wish  and  purpose  of  your  heart  obey; 
Yet  stand  you  there 

As  would  you  to  the  lecture-room  repair, 
As  if  before  you  stood, 
Arrayed  in  flesh  and  blood, 
Physics  and  metaphysics  weird  and  gray!  — 
Away!  [Exeunt.] 

MARGARET  (with  a  lamp) 
Here  'tis  so  close,  so  sultry  now, 

[She  opens  the  window.] 

Yet  out  of  doors  'tis  not  so  warm. 
I  feel  so  strange,  I  know  not  how  — 
I  wish  my  mother  would  come  home. 
Through  me  there  runs  a  shuddering — 
I'm  but  a  foolish  timid  thing! 

[While  undressing  herself  she  begins  to  sing.] 

There  was  a  king  in  Thule, 

True  even  to  the  grave; 


348  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

To  whom  his  dying  mistress 
A  golden  beaker  gave. 

At  every  feast  he  drained  it, 
Naught  was  to  him  so  dear, 
And  often  as  he  drained  it, 
Gush'd  from  his  eyes  the  tear. 

When  death  came,  unrepining 
His  cities  o'er  he  told; 
All  to  his  heir  resigning, 
Except  his  cup  of  gold. 

With  many  a  knightly  vassal 
At  a  royal  feast  sat  he, 
In  yon  proud  hall  ancestral, 
In  his  castle  o'er  the  sea. 

Up  stood  the  jovial  monarch, 
And  quaff 'd  his  last  life's  glow, 
Then  hurled  the  hallow 'd  goblet 
Into  the  flood  below. 

He  saw  it  splashing,  drinking, 
And  plunging  in  the  sea; 
His  eyes  meanwhile  were  sinking, 
And  never  again  drank  he. 

[She  opens  the  press  to  put  away  her  clothes,  and  per- 
ceives the  casket.] 

How  comes  this  lovely  casket  here?     The  press 
I  locked,  of  that  I'm  confident. 
'Tis  very  wonderful!     What's  in  it  I  can't  guess; 
Perhaps  'twas  brought  by  some  one  in  distress, 
And  left  in  pledge  for  loan  my  mother  lent. 
Here  by  a  ribbon  hangs  a  little  key! 
I  have  a  mind  to  open  it  and  see! 
Heavens !  only  look !  what  have  we  here ! 
In  all  my  days  ne  'er  saw  I  such  a  sight ! 
Jewels!  which  any  noble  dame  might  wear, 
For  some  high  pageant  richly  dight 


FAUST  — PART  I  349 

This  chain  —  how  would  it  look  on  me! 
These  splendid  gems,  whose  may  they  be? 

[She  puts  them  on  and  steps  before  the  glass.] 
Were  but  the  earrings  only  mine ! 
Thus  one  has  quite  another  air. 
What  boots  it  to  be  young  and  fair! 
It  doubtless  may  be  very  fine; 
But  then,  alas,  none  cares  for  you, 
And  praise  sounds  half  like  pity  too. 

Gold  all  doth  lure, 

Gold  doth  secure 

All  things.     Alas,  we  poor! 

PROMENADE 

FAUST  walking  thoughtfully  up  and  down.    To  him  MEPHISTOPHELES. 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

By  all  rejected  love !     By  hellish  fire  I  curse, 
Would  I  knew  aught  to  make  my  imprecation  worse ! 

FAUST 

What  aileth  thee?  what  chafes  thee  now  so  sore? 
A  face  like  that  I  never  saw  before! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'd  yield  me  to  the  devil  instantly, 
Did  it  not  happen  that  myself  am  he! 

FAUST 

There  must  be  some  disorder  in  thy  wit! 
To  rave  thus  like  a  madman,  is  it  fit? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Think!  only  think!     The  gems  for  Gretchen  brought, 

Them  hath  a  priest  now  made  his  own!  — 

A  glimpse  of  them  the  mother  caught, 

And  'gan  with  secret  fear  to  groan. 

The  woman's  scent  is  keen  enough; 

Doth  ever  in  the  prayer-book  snuff; 


350  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Smells  every  article  to  ascertain 

Whether  the  thing  is  holy  or  profane, 

And  scented  in  the  jewels  rare, 

That  there  was  not  much  blessing  there. 

"  My  child,"  she  cries,  "  ill-gotten  good 

Ensnares  the  soul,  consumes  the  blood; 

With  them  we'll  deck  our  Lady  shrine, 

She'll  cheer  our  souls  with  bread  divine!  " 

At  this  poor  Gretchen  'gan  to  pout; 

'Tis  a  gift-horse,  at  least,  she  thought, 

And  sure,  he  godless  cannot  be, 

Who  brought  them  here  so  cleverly. 

Straight  for  a  priest  the  mother  sent, 

Who,  when  he  understood  the  jest, 

With  what  he  saw  was  well  content. 

"  This  shows  a  pious  mind!  "     Quoth  he: 

11  Self -conquest  is  true  victory. 

The  Church  hath  a  good  stomach,  she,  with  zest, 

Whole  countries  hath  swallow 'd  down, 

And  never  yet  a  surfeit  known. 

The  Church  alone,  be  it  confessed, 

Daughters,  can  ill-got  wealth  digest." 

FAUST 

It  is  a  general  custom,  too, 
Practised  alike  by  king  and  jew. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

With  that,  clasp,  chain,  and  ring,  he  swept 

As  they  were  mushrooms;  and  the  casket, 

Without  one  word  of  thanks,  he  kept, 

As  if  of  nuts  it  were  a  basket. 

Promised  reward  in  heaven,  then  forth  he  hied — 

And  greatly  they  were  edified. 

FAUST 
And  Gretchen  1 


FAUST  — PART  I  351 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  unquiet  mood 

Knows  neither  what  she  would  or  should; 
The  trinkets  night  and  day  thinks  o'er; 
On  him  who  brought  them,  dwells  still  more. 

FAUST 

The  darling's  sorrow  grieves  me,  bring 
Another  set  without  delay! 
The  first,  methinks,  was  no  great  thing. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

All's  to  my  gentleman  child's  play! 

FAUST 

Plan  all  things  to  achieve  my  end! 
Engage  the  attention  of  her  friend! 
No  milk-and-water  devil  be, 
And  bring  fresh  jewels  instantly! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ay,  sir!     Most  gladly  I'll  obey. 

[FAUST  exit.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Your  doting  love-sick  fool,  with  ease, 

Merely  his  lady-love  to  please, 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars  in  sport  would  puff  away. 

[Exit.] 

THE  NEIGHBOR'S  HOUSE 

MABTHA  (alone) 

God  pardon  my  dear  husband,  he 
Doth  not  in  truth  act  well  by  me ! 
Forth  in  the  world  abroad  to  roam, 
And  leave  me  on  the  straw  at  home. 
And  yet  his  will  I  ne'er  did  thwart, 
God  knows,  I  lov'd  him  from  my  heart. 

[She  weeps.] 

Perchance  he's  dead!  —  oh  wretched  state!  — 
Had  I  but  a  certificate! 


352  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

(MARGARET  comes.) 

MARGARET 

Dame  Martha! 

MARTHA 

Gretchen  ? 

MARGARET 

Only  think! 

My  knees  beneath  me  well-nigh  sink ! 
Within  my  press  I've  found  today 
Another  case,  of  ebony. 
And  things  —  magnificent  they  are, 
More  costly  than  the  first,  by  far. 

MARTHA 

You  must  not  name  it  to  your  mother! 
It  would  to  shrift,  just  like  the  other. 

MARGARET 

Nay  look  at  them!  now  only  see! 

MARTHA  (dresses  her  up) 
Thou  happy  creature ! 

MARGARET 

Woe  is  me ! 

Them  in  the  street  I  cannot  wear, 
Or  in  the  church,  or  anywhere. 

MARTHA 

Come  often  over  here  to  me, 

The  gems  put  on  quite  privately; 

And  then  before  the  mirror  walk  an  hour  or  so, 

Thus  we  shall  have  our  pleasure  too. 

Then  suitable  occasions  we  must  seize, 

As  at  a  feast,  to  show  them  by  degrees: 

A  chain  at  first,  pearl  ear-drops  then, —  your  mother 

Won't  see  them,  or  we'll  coin  some  tale  or  other. 

MARGARET 

But,  who,  I  wonder,  could  the  caskets  bring! 
I  fear  there's  something  wrong  about  the  thing! 

[A  knock.] 
Good  heavens!  can  that  my  mother  be? 


FAUST  — PARTI  353 

MARTHA  (peering  through  the  blind) 
'Tis  a  strange  gentleman,  I  see. 
Come  in! 

[MEPHISTOPHELES  enters.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I've  ventur'd  to  intrude  today. 
Ladies,  excuse  the  liberty,  I  pray. 

[He  steps  back  respectfully  before  MARGARET.] 
After  dame  Martha  Schwerdtlein  I  inquire! 

MARTHA 

Tis  I.     Pray  what  have  you  to  say  to  met 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside  to  her) 
I  know  you  now, —  and  therefore  will  retire; 
At  present  you've  distinguished  company. 
Pardon  the  freedom,  Madam,  with  your  leave, 
I  will  make  free  to  call  again  at  eve. 

MARTHA    (aloud) 

Why,  child,  of  all  strange  notions,  he 
For  some  grand  lady  taketh  thee! 

MARGARET 

I  am,  in  truth,  of  humble  blood  — 
The  gentleman  is  far  too  good  — 
Nor  gems  nor  trinkets  are  my  own. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Oh  'tis  not  the  mere  ornaments  alone; 
Her  glance  and  mien  far  more  betray. 
Rejoiced  I  am  that  I  may  stay. 

MARTHA 

Your  business,  Sir?     I  long  to  know  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Would  I  could  happier  tidings  show! 

I  trust  mine  errand  you'll  not  let  me  rue; 

Your  husband's  dead,  and  greeteth  you. 

VOL.  1  —  23 


354  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MARTHA 

Is  dead?     True  heart!     Oh  misery! 
My  husband  dead!     Oh,  I  shall  die! 

MARGARET 

Alas!  good  Martha!  don't  despair! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  listen  to  the  sad  affair ! 

MARGARET 

I  for  this  cause  should  fear  to  love. 
The  loss  my  certain  death  would  prove. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Joy  still  must  sorrow,  sorrow  joy  attend. 

MARTHA 

Proceed,  and  tell  the  story  of  his  end ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

At  Padua,  in  St.  Anthony's, 
In  holy  ground  his  body  lies ; 
Quiet  and  cool  his  place  of  rest, 
With  pious  ceremonials  blest. 

MARTHA 

And  had  you  naught  besides  to  bring? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Oh  yes !  one  grave  and  solemn  prayer ; 

Let  them  for  him  three  hundred  masses  sing ! 

But  in  my  pockets,  I  have  nothing  there. 

MARTHA 

No  trinket!  no  love-token  did  he  send! 

What  every  journeyman  safe  in  his  pouch  will  hoard 

There  for  remembrance  fondly  stored, 

And  rather  hungers,  rather  begs  than  spend! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Madam,  in  truth,  it  grieves  me  sore, 
But  he  his  gold  not  lavishly  hath  spent. 


FAUST  — PART  I  355 

His  failings  too  he  deeply  did  repent, 
Ay!  and  his  evil  plight  bewail 'd  still  more. 

MARGARET 

Alas !    That  men  should  thus  be  doomed  to  woe  I 
I  for  his  soul  will  many  a  requiem  pray. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  husband  you  deserve  this  very  day ; 
A  child  so  worthy  to  be  loved. 

MARGARET 

Ah  no, 
That  time  hath  not  yet  come  for  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  not  a  spouse,  a  gallant  let  it  be. 
Among  heaven's  choicest  gifts,  I  place, 
So  sweet  a  darling  to  embrace. 

MARGARET 

Our  land  doth  no  such  usage  know. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Usage  or  not,  it  happens  so. 

MARTHA 

Go  on,,  I  pray ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  stood  by  his  bedside. 
Something  less  foul  it  was  than  dung; 
Twas  straw  half  rotten ;  yet,  he  as  a  Christian  died. 
And  sorely  hath  remorse  his  conscience  wrung. 
'  *  Wretch  that  I  was, ' '  quoth  he,  with  parting  breath, 
"  So  to  forsake  my  business  and  my  wife! 
Ah!  the  remembrance  is  my  death. 
Could  I  but  have  her  pardon  in  this  life ! ' ' — 

MARTHA  (weeping). 
Dear  soul !  I  Ve  long  forgiven  him,  indeed ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

"  Though  she,  God  knows,  was  more  to  blame  than  I." 


356  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MARTHA 

He  lied !    What,  on  the  brink  of  death  to  lie ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  I  am  skill 'd  the  countenance  to  read, 

He  doubtless  fabled  as  he  parted  hence. — 

'  *  No  time  had  I  to  gape,  or  take  my  ease, ' '  he  said, 

' '  First  to  get  children,  and  then  get  them  bread ; 

And  bread,  too,  in  the  very  widest  sense ; 

Nor  could  I  eat  in  peace  even  my  proper  share." 

MARTHA 

What,  all  my  truth,  my  love  forgotten  quite  I 
My  weary  drudgery  by  day  and  night ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Not  so !    He  thought  of  you  with  tender  care. 
Quoth  he :    * '  Heaven  knows  how  fervently  I  prayed, 
For  wife  and  children  when  from  Malta  bound;  — 
The  prayer  hath  heaven  with  favor  crowned ; 
We  took  a  Turkish  vessel  which  conveyed 
Rich  store  of  treasure  for  the  Sultan's  court; 
Its  own  reward  our  gallant  action  brought ; 
The  captur'd  prize  was  shared  among  the  crew, 
And  of  the  treasure  I  received  my  due." 

MARTHA 

How?    Where?    The  treasure  hath  he  buried,  pray? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Where  the  four  winds  have  blown  it,  who  can  say? 
In  Naples  as  he  stroll 'd,  a  stranger  there, — 
A  comely  maid  took  pity  on  my  friend : 
And  gave  such  tokens  of  her  love  and  care, 
That  he  retained  them  to  his  blessed  end. 

MARTHA 

Scoundrel!  to  rob  his  children  of  their  bread! 

And  all  this  misery,  this  bitter  need, 

Could  not  his  course  of  recklessness  impede ! 


FAUST  —  PAET  I  357 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well,  he  hath  paid  the  forfeit,  and  is  dead. 
Now  were  I  in  your  place,  my  counsel  hear  ; 
My  weeds  I'd  wear  for  one  chaste  year, 
And  for  another  lover  meanwhile  would  look  out. 

MAKTHA 

Alas,  I  might  search  far  and  near, 
Not  quickly  should  I  find  another  like  my  first! 
There  could  not  be  a  fonder  fool  than  mine, 
Only  he  loved  too  well  abroad  to  roam  ; 
Loved  foreign  women  too,  and  foreign  wine, 
And  loved  besides  the  dice  accurs'd. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

All  had  gone  swimmingly,  no  doubt, 

Had  he  but  given  you  at  home, 

On  his  side,  just  as  wide  a  range. 

Upon  such  terms,  to  you  I  swear, 

Myself  with  you  would  gladly  rings  exchange! 

MABTHA 

The  gentleman  is  surely  pleas  'd  to  jest! 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  to  be  off  in  time,  were  best! 
She'd  make  the  very  devil  marry  her. 

(To  MABGABET) 
How  fares  it  with  your  heart? 

MABGABET 

How  mean  you,  Sir? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside) 
The  sweet  young  innocent! 

(aloud) 

Ladies,  farewell  ! 

^ 

MABGABET 

Farewell  ! 


358  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MABTHA 

But  ere  you  leave  us,  quickly  tell! 
I  from  a  witness  fain  had  heard, 

Where,  how,  and  when  my  husband  died  and  was  interr'd. 
To  forms  I've  always  been  attached  indeed, 
His  death  I  fain  would  in  the  journals  read. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ay,  madam,  what  two  witnesses  declare 
Is  held  as  valid  everywhere; 
A  gallant  friend  I  have,  not  far  from  here, 
Who  will  for  you  before  the  judge  appear. 
I'll  bring  him  straight. 

MARTHA 

I  pray  you  do ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  this  young  lady,  we  shall  find  her  too? 
A  noble  youth,  far  traveled,  he 
Shows  to  the  sex  all  courtesy. 

MARGARET 

I  in  his  presence  needs  must  blush  for  shame. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Not  in  the  presence  of  a  crowned  king! 

MARTHA 

The  garden,  then,  behind  my  house,  we  '11  name, 
There  we'll  await  you  both  this  evening. 

A  STREET 

FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES 

FAUST 
How  is  it  now?    How  speeds  it?    Is't  in  train? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Bravo !    I  find  you  all  aflame ! 

Gretchen  full  soon  your  own  you'll  name. 

This  eve,  at  neighbor  Martha's,  her  you'll  meet  again; 

The  woman  seems  expressly  made 

To  drive  the  pimp  and  gipsy's  trade. 


FAUST  — PART  I  359 

FAUST 

Good! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  from  us  she  something  would  request. 

FAUST 

A  favor  claims  return,  as  this  world  goes. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We  have  on  oath  but  duly  to  attest 

That  her  dead  husband's  limbs,  outstretch 'd,  repose 

In  holy  ground  at  Padua. 

FAUST 

Sage  indeed! 
So  I  suppose  we  straight  must  journey  there! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Sancta  simplicitas!    For  that  no  need! 
Without  much  knowledge  we  have  but  to  swear. 

FAUST 

If  you  have  nothing  better  to  suggest, 
Against  your  plan  I  must  at  once  protest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Oh,  holy  man!  methinks  I  have  you  there! 

In  all  your  life,  say,  have  you  ne'er 

False  witness  borne,  until  this  hour? 

Have  you  of  God,  the  world,  and  all  it  doth  contain, 

Of  man,  and  that  which  worketh  in  his  heart  and  brain, 

Not  definitions  given,  in  words  of  weight  and  power^ 

With  front  unblushing,  and  a  dauntless  breast? 

Yet,  if  into  the  depth  of  things  you  go, 

Touching  these  matters,  it  must  be  confess'd, 

As  much  as  of  Herr  Schwerdtlein 's  death  you  know! 

FAUST 

Thou  art  and  dost  remain  liar  and  sophist  too. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ay,  if  one  did  not  take  a  somewhat  deeper  view! 
Tomorrow,  in  all  honor,  thou 


360  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Poor  Gretchen  wilt  befool,  and  vow 
Thy  soul's  deep  love,  in  lover's  fashion. 

FAUST 
And  from  my  heart. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

All  good  and  fair! 

Then  deathless  constancy  thou'lt  swear; 
Speak  of  one  all  o  'ermastering  passion  — 
Will  that  too  issue  from  the  heart? 

FAUST 

Forbear ! 

When  passion  sways  me,  and  I  seek  to  frame 
Fit  utterance  for  feeling,  deep,  intense, 
And  for  my  frenzy  finding  no  fit  name, 
Sweep  round  the  axaple  world  with  every  sense, 
Grasp  at  the  loftiest  words  to  speak  my  flame, 
And  call  the  glow,  wherewith  I  burn, 
Quenchless,  eternal,  yea,  eterne  — 
Is  that  of  sophistry  a  devilish  play? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yet  am  I  right ! 

FAUST 

Mark  this,  my  friend, 

And  spare  my  lungs ;  who  would  the  right  maintain, 
And  hath  a  tongue  wherewith  his  point  to  gain, 
Will  gain  it  in  the  end. 
But  come,  of  gossip  I  am  weary  quite ; 
Because  I've  no  resource,  thou'rt  in  the  right. 

GARDEN 

MARGARET  on  FAUST'S  arm.    MARTHA  with  MEPHISTOPHELES  walking  up 

and  down. 

MARGARET 

I  feel  it,  you  but  spare  my  ignorance, 

The  gentleman  to  blame  me  stoops  thus  low. 


360  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Poor  G  t  befo<  /ow 

Thy  so  jj  love,  in  lover's  fashion. 

FAUST 

Ar:  my  heart. 

MEPHISTOPHELE^, 

All  good  and  fair! 
athless  constancy  thou'lt  swear; 
>ak  of  one  all  o  'ermastering  passion  — 
Will  that  too  issue  from  the  heart! 

FAUST 

Forbear ! 

When  passion  sways  me,  and  I.  seek  to  frame 
Fit  utterance  for  feeling,  deep,  intense, 
And  for  my  frenzy  finding  no  fit  name, 
Sweep  round^  the  ample  world  with  every  sense, 
Grasp  at  the  loftiest  words  to  speak  myflame, 
And  call  the  glow,  wOerew.iili  rlmrirr^ 
Quenchless,  eternal,  yea,  eterne  — 
Is  that  of  sophistry  a  devilish  play? 

MEPHISTOPHEUSS 

Yet  am  I  rigl 

FAUST 

Mark  this,  my  friend, 

d  spare  my  lungs;  who  would  the  right  maintain, 
i  hath  a  tongue  wherewith  his  point  to  gain, 

gain  it  in  the  end. 

t  come,  of  gossip  I  am  weary  quite ; 
Because  I've  no  resource,  thou'rt  in  the  right. 

GARDEN 

MARGARET  on  FAUST'S  arm.    >  ttk  MBPHISTOPHKLKS  walking  up 

a*d  down. 

From  the  Pointing  by  Carl  jfadbfBET 
I  feel  it,  jon  but  spare  my  ignorance, 
The  gentleman  to  blame  me  stoops  thus  low. 


FAUST  — PART  I  361 

A  traveler  from  complaisance 
Still  makes  the  best  of  things ;  I  know 
Too  well,  my  humble  prattle  never  can 
Have  power  to  entertain  so  wise  a  man. 

FAUST 

One  glance,  one  word  from  thee  doth  charm  me  more 
Than  the  world's  wisdom  or  the  sage's  lore. 

[He  kisses  her  hand.] 

MAEGABET 

Nay!  trouble  not  yourself!    A  hand  so  coarse, 

So  rude  as  mine,  how  can  you  kiss ! 

What  constant  work  at  home  must  I  not  do  perforce ! 

My  mother  too  exacting  is.  [They  pass  on.] 

MARTHA 

Thus,  sir,  unceasing  travel  is  your  lot? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Traffic  and  duty  urge  us !    With  what  pain 
Are  we  compelled  to  leave  full  many  a  spot, 
Where  yet  we  dare  not  once  remain ! 

MARTHA 

In  youth's  wild  years,  with  vigor  crown 'd, 

'Tis  not  amiss  thus  through  the  world  to  sweep; 

But  ah,  the  evil  days  come  round! 

And  to  a  lonely  grave  as  bachelor  to  creep 

A  pleasant  thing  has  no  one  found. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  prospect  fills  me  with  dismay. 

MARTHA 

Therefore  in  time,  dear  sir,  reflect,  I  pray. 

[They  pass  on.] 

MARGARET 

Ay,  out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind ! 
Politeness  easy  is  to  you; 
Friends  everywhere,  and  not  a  few, 
Wiser  than  I  am,  you  will  find. 


362  THE  GEEMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

0  dearest,  trust  me,  what  doth  pass  for  sense 
Full  oft  is  self-conceit  and  blindness ! 

MARGARET 

How? 

FAUST 

Simplicity  and  holy  innocence  — 

When  will  ye  learn  your  hallow 'd  worth  to  know! 

Ah,  when  will  meekness  and  humility, 


MARGARET 

Only  one  little  moment  think  of  me! 

To  think  of  you  I  shall  have  many  an  hour. 

FAUST 

You  are  perhaps  much  alone? 

MARGARET 

Yes,  small  our  household  is,  I  own, 

Yet  must  I  see  to  it.    No  maid  we  keep, 

And  I  must  cook,  sew,  knit,  and  sweep, 

Still  early  on  my  feet  and  late; 

My  mother  is  in  all  things,  great  and  small, 

So  accurate! 

Not  that  for  thrift  there  is  such  pressing  need, 

Than  others  we  might  make  more  show  indeed; 

My  father  left  behind  a  small  estate, 

A  house  and  garden  near  the  city-wall. 

But  fairly  quiet  now  my  days,  I  own; 

As  soldier  is  my  brother  gone ; 

My  little  sister 's  dead;  the  babe  to  rear 

Occasion 'd  me  some  care  and  fond  annoy; 

But  I  would  go  through  all  again  with  joy, 

The  darling  was  to  me  so  dear. 

FAUST 

An  angel,  sweet,  if  it  resembled  thee ! 


FAUST  — PART  I  363 

MABGABET 

I  reared  it  up,  and  it  grew  fond  of  me. 
After  my  father's  death  it  saw  the  day; 
We  gave  my  mother  up  for  lost,  she  lay 
In  such  a  wretched  plight,  and  then  at  length 
So  very  slowly  she  regain 'd  her  strength. 
Weak  as  she  was,  'twas  vain  for  her  to  try 
Herself  to  suckle  the  poor  babe,  so  I 
Reared  it  on  milk  and  water  all  alone ; 
And  thus  the  child  became  as  'twere  my  own; 
Within  my  arms  it  stretched  itself  and  grew, 
And  smiling,  nestled  in  my  bosom  too. 

FAUST 
Doubtless  the  purest  happiness  was  thine. 

MAKGAKET 

But  many  weary  hours,  in  sooth,  were  also  mine. 

At  night  its  little  cradle  stood 

Close  to  my  bed;  so  was  I  wide  awake 

If  it  but  stirred; 

One  while  I  was  obliged  to  give  it  food, 

Or  to  my  arms  the  darling  take; 

From  bed  full  oft  must  rise,  whene'er  its  cry  I  heard, 

And,  dancing  it,  must  pace  the  chamber  to  and  fro ; 

Stand  at  the  wash-tub  early;  forthwith  go 

To  market,  and  then  mind  the  cooking  too  — 

Tomorrow  like  today,  the  whole  year  through. 

Ah,  sir,  thus  living,  it  must  be  confess  'd 

One's  spirits  are  not  always  of  the  best; 

Yet  it  a  relish  gives  to  food  and  rest.          [They  pass  on.] 

MARTHA 

Poor  women!  we  are  badly  off,  I  own; 
A  bachelor's  conversion's  hard,  indeed! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Madam,  with  one  like  you  it  rests  alone, 
To  tutor  me  a  better  course  to  lead. 


364  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MARTHA 

Speak  frankly,  sir,  none  is  there  you  have  met? 
Has  your  heart  ne'er  attach 'd  itself  as  yet? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

One's  own  fire-side  and  a  good  wife  are  gold 
And  pearls  of  price,  so  says  the  proverb  old. 

MARTHA 

I  mean,  has  passion  never  stirred  your  breast? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I've  everywhere  been  well  received,  I  own. 

MARTHA 

Yet  hath  your  heart  no  earnest  preference  known? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

With  ladies  one  should  ne'er  presume  to  jest. 

MARTHA 

Ah !  you  mistake  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'm  sorry  I'm  so  blind! 
But  this  I  know — that  you  are  very  kind. 

[They  pass  on.] 
FAUST 

Me,  little  angel,  didst  thou  recognize, 
When  in  the  garden  first  I  came  ? 

MARGARET 

Did  you  not  see  it?    I  cast  down  my  eyes. 

FAUST 

Thou  dost  forgive  my  boldness,  dost  not  blame 

The  liberty  I  took  that  day, 

When  thou  from  church  didst  lately  wend  thy  way? 

MARGARET 

I  was  confused.    So  had  it  never  been; 
No  one  of  me  could  any  evil  say. 
Alas,  thought  I,  he  doubtless  in  thy  mien, 
Something  unmaidenly  or  bold  hath  seen  ? 


Permission    Theodor    Stroefer,    Munich 

FAUST  AND  MARGARET  IN  THE  GARDEN 


LlEZEN-MxYER 


FAUST  — PAKT  I  365 

It  seemed  as  if  it  struck  him  suddenly, 

Here 's  just  a  girl  with  whom  one  may  make  free ! 

Yet  I  must  own  that  then  I  scarcely  knew 

What  in  your  favor  here  began  at  once  to  plead; 

Yet  I  was  angry  with  myself  indeed 

That  I  more  angry  could  not  feel  with  you. 

FAUST 

Sweet  love ! 

MARGARET 

Just  wait  awhile ! 

[She  gathers  a  star-flower  and  plucks  off  the  leaves 
one  after  another.] 

FAUST 

A  nosegay  may  that  be  I 

MARGARET 

No !    It  is  but  a  game. 

FAUST 
How! 

MARGARET 

Go,  you  '11  laugh  at  me ! 
[She  plucks  off  the  leaves  and  murmurs  to  herself.] 

FAUST 
What  murmurest  thouf 

MARGARET  (half  aloud) 
He  loves  me  —  loves  me  not. 

FAUST 
Sweet  angel,  with  thy  face  of  heavenly  bliss ! 

MARGARET    (continues) 

He  loves  me  —  not  —  he  loves  me  —  not  — 

[plucking  off  the  last  leaf  with  fond  joy.] 

He  loves  me! 
FAUST 

Yes! 
And  this  flower-language,  darling,  let  it  be 


366  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

A  heavenly  oracle !    He  loveth  thee ! 

Know'st  thou  the  meaning  of,  He  loveth  thee? 

[He  seizes  both  her  hands.] 

MARGARET 

I  tremble  so ! 

FAUST 

Nay!  do  not  tremble,  love! 
Let  this  hand-pressure,  let  this  glance  reveal 
Feelings,  all  power  of  speech  above ; 
To  give  oneself  up  wholly  and  to  feel 
A  joy  that  must  eternal  prove ! 
Eternal!  —  Yes,  its  end  would  be  despair, 
No  end!  —  It  cannot  end! 

[MARGARET  presses  his  hand,  extricates  herself,  and 
runs  away.  He  stands  a  moment  in  thought,  and 
then  follows  her.] 

MARTHA  (approaching) 
Night's  closing. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yes,  we'll  presently  away. 

MARTHA 

I  would  entreat  you  longer  yet  to  stay ; 

But  'tis  a  wicked  place,  just  here  about; 

It  is  as  if  the  folk  had  nothing  else  to  do, 

Nothing  to  think  of  too, 

But  gaping  watch  their  neighbors,  who  goes  in  and  out ; 

And  scandal's  busy  still,  do  whatsoe'er  one  may. 

And  our  young  couple? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

^  They  have  flown  up  there, 

The  wanton  butterflies ! 

MARTHA 

He  seems  to  take  to  her. 
And  she  to  him.    'Tis  of  the  world  the  way ! 


FAUST  —  PART  I  367 

A  SUMMEE-HOUSE 

[MABGABET  runs  in,  hides  behind  the  door,  holds  the  tip 
of  her  finger  to  her  lip,  and  peeps  through  the 
crevice.] 

MARGARET 

He  comes ! 

FAUST 

Ah,  little  rogue,  so  thou 
Think 'st  to  provoke  me !    I  have  caught  thee  now ! 

[He  kisses  her.] 

MARGARET  (embracing  him,  and  returning  the  hiss) 
Dearest  of  men !    I  love  thee  from  my  heart ! 

[MEPHISTOPHELES  knocks.] 

FAUST  (stamping) 
Who's  there? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  friend ! 

FAUST 

A  brute! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

'Tis  time  to  part. 

MARTHA  (comes) 
Ay,  it  is  late,  good  sir. 

FAUST 
Mayn't  I  attend  you,  then? 

MARGARET 

Oh  no  —  my  mother  would  —  adieu,  adieu  I 

FAUST 

And  must  I  really  then  take  leave  of  you? 
Farewell  1 

MARTHA 

Good-bye  I 

MARGARET 

Ere  long  to  meet  again ! 
[Exeunt  FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES.] 


368  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MARGAEET 

Good  heavens !  how  all  things  far  and  near 

Must  fill  his  mind  —  a  man  like  this  1 

Abash 'd  before  him  I  appear, 

And  say  to  all  things  only,  yes. 

Poor  simple  child,  I  cannot  see 

What  'tis  that  he  can  find  in  me.  [Exit.] 

FOREST  AND  CAVERN 

FAUST  (alone) 

Spirit  sublime!    Thou  gav'st  me,  gav'st  me  all 
For  which  I  prayed!    Not  vainly  hast  thou  turn'd 
To  me  thy  countenance  in  flaming  fire : 
Gavest  me  glorious  nature  for  my  realm, 
And  also  power  to  feel  her  and  enjoy; 
Not  merely  with  a  cold  and  wondering  glance, 
Thou  dost  permit  me  in  her  depths  profound, 
As  in  the  bosom  of  a  friend  to  gaze. 
Before  me  thou  dost  lead  her  living  tribes, 
And  dost  in  silent  grove,  in  air  and  stream 
Teach  me  to  know  my  kindred.    And  when  roars 
The  howling  storm-blast  through  the  groaning  wood, 
Wrenching  the  giant  pine,  which  in  its  fall 
Crashing  sweeps  down  its  neighbor  trunks  and  boughs, 
While  hollow  thunder  from  the  hill  resounds : 
Then  thou  dost  lead  me  to  some  shelter 'd  cave, 
Dost  there  reveal  me  to  myself,  and  show 
Of  my  own  bosom  the  mysterious  depths. 
And  when  with  soothing  beam,  the  moon's  pale  orb 
Full  in  my  view  climbs  up  the  pathless  sky, 
From  crag  and  dewy  grove,  the  silvery  forms 
Of  by-gone  ages  hover,  and  assuage 
The  joy  austere  of  contemplative  thought. 

Oh,  that  naught  perfect  is  assign 'd  to  man, 

I  feel,  alas!    With  this  exalted  joy, 

Which  lifts  me  near  and  nearer  to  the  gods, 


FAUST  — PART  I  369 

Thou  gav'st  me  this  companion,  unto  whom 
I  needs  must  cling,  though  cold  and  insolent, 
He  still  degrades  me  to  myself,  and  turns 
Thy  glorious  gifts  to  nothing,  with  a  breath. 
He  in  my  bosom  with  malicious  zeal 
For  that  fair  image  fans  a  raging  fire ; 
From  craving  to  enjoyment  thus  I  reel, 
And  in  enjoyment  languish  for  desire. 

[MEPHISTOPHELES  enters.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  this  lone  life  have  you  not  had  your  fill! 
How  for  so  long  can  it  have  charms  for  you  ? 
'Tis  well  enough  to  try  it  if  you  will ; 
But  then  away  again  to  something  new ! 

FAUST 

Would  you  could  better  occupy  your  leisure, 
Than  in  disturbing  thus  my  hours  of  joy. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well !  Well !  I  '11  leave  you  to  yourself  with  pleasure, 

A  serious  tone  you  hardly  dare  employ. 

To  part  from  one  so  crazy,  harsh,  and  cross, 

Were  not  in  truth  a  grievous  loss. 

The  live-long  day,  for  you  I  toil  and  fret ; 

Ne'er  from  his  worship's  face  a  hint  I  get, 

What  pleases  him,  or  what  to  let  alone. 

FAUST 

Ay  truly !  that  is  just  the  proper  tone ! 
He  wearies  me,  and  would  with  thanks  be  paid ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Poor  Son  of  Earth,  without  my  aid, 
How  would  thy  weary  days  have  flown? 
Thee  of  thy  foolish  whims  I've  cured, 
Thy  vain  imaginations  banished. 
And  but  for  me,  be  well  assured, 
Thou  from  this  sphere  must  soon  have  vanished. 
VOL.  1  —  24 


370  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

In  rocky  hollows  and  in  caverns  drear, 

Why  like  an  owl  sit  moping  here! 

Wherefore    from   dripping   stones    and   moss   with   ooze 

embued, 

Dost  suck,  like  any  toad,  thy  food  ? 
A  rare,  sweet  pastime.    Verily ! 
The  doctor  cleaveth  still  to  thee. 

FAUST 

Dost  comprehend  what  bliss  without  alloy 
From  this  wild  wand 'ring  in  the  desert  springs?  — 
Couldst  thou  but  guess  the  new  life-power  it  brings, 
Thou  wouldst  be  fiend  enough  to  envy  me  my  joy. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  super-earthly  ecstasy!  at  night, 
To  lie  in  darkness  on  the  dewy  height, 
Embracing  heaven  and  earth  in  rapture  high, 
The  soul  dilating  to  a  deity; 

With  prescient  yearnings  pierce  the  core  of  earth, 
Feel  in  your  laboring  breast  the  six-days '  birth, 
Enjoy,  in  proud  delight  what  no  one  knows, 
While  your  love-rapture  o  'er  creation  flows  — 
The  earthly  lost  in  beatific  vision, 
And  then  the  lofty  intuition  — 

(with  a  gesture.) 
I  need  not  tell  you  how  —  to  close ! 

FAUST 
Fie  on  you ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

This  displeases  you?    "  For  shame!  " 
You  are  forsooth  entitled  to  exclaim ; 
We  to  chaste  ears  it  seems  must  not  pronounce 
What,  nathless,  the  chaste  heart  cannot  renounce. 
Well,  to  be  brief,  the  joy  as  fit  occasions  rise, 
I  grudge  you  not,  of  specious  lies. 
But  long  this  mood  thou 'It  not  retain. 
Already  thou'rt  again  outworn, 


FAUST  — PART  I  371 

And  should  this  last,  thou  wilt  be  torn 

By  frenzy  or  remorse  and  pain. 

Enough  of  this !    Thy  true  love  dwells  apart, 

And  all  to  her  seems  flat  and  tame ; 

Alone  thine  image  fills  her  heart, 

She  loves  thee  with  an  all-devouring  flame. 

First  came  thy  passion  with  o  'erpowering  rush, 

Like  mountain  torrent,  swollen  by  the  melted  snow; 

Full  in  her  heart  didst  pour  the  sudden  gush, 

Now  has  thy  brooklet  ceased  to  flow. 

Instead  of  sitting  throned  midst  forests  wild, 

It  would  become  so  great  a  lord 

To  comfort  the  enamor'd  child, 

And  the  young  monkey  for  her  love  reward. 

To  her  the  hours  seem  miserably  long ; 

She  from  the  window  sees  the  clouds  float  by 

As  o'er  the  lofty  city-walls  they  fly. 

' '  If  I  a  birdie  were !  "  so  runs  her  song, 

Half  through  the  night  and  all  day  long. 

Cheerful  sometimes,  more  oft  at  heart  full  sore; 

Fairly  outwept  seem  now  her  tears, 

Anon  she  tranquil  is,  or  so  appears, 

And  love-sick  evermore. 

FAUST 
Snake !    Serpent  vile ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (oSttfe) 

Good !    If  I  catch  thee  with  my  guile ! 

FAUST 

Vile  reprobate !  go  get  thee  hence ; 
Forbear  the  lovely  girl  to  name ! 
Nor  in  my  half -distracted  sense 
Kindle  anew  the  smouldering  flame  I 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  wouldest  thou!    She  thinks  you've  taken  flight; 
It  seems,  she's  partly  in  the  right. 


372  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

Fm  near  her  still — and  should  I  distant  rove, 
Her  I  can  ne'er  forget,  ne'er  lose  her  love; 
And  all  things  touch 'd  by  those  sweet  lips  of  hers, 
Even  the  very  Host,  my  envy  stirs. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

'Tis  well !    I  oft  have  envied  you  indeed, 
The  twin-pair  that  among  the  roses  feed. 

FAUST 

Pander,  avaunt! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Go  to !  I  laugh,  the  while  you  rail ; 
The  power  which  fashion 'd  youth  and  maid 
Well  understood  the  noble  trade ; 
So  neither  shall  occasion  fail. 
But  hence !  —  A  mighty  grief  I  trow  I 
Unto  thy  lov'd  one's  chamber  thou 
And  not  to  death  shouldst  go. 

FAUST 

What  is  to  me  heaven's  joy  within  her  arms? 
What  though  my  life  her  bosom  warms !  — 
Do  I  not  ever  feel  her  woe! 
The  outcast  am  I  not,  unhoused,  unblest, 
Inhuman  monster,  without  aim  or  rest, 
Who,  like  the  greedy  surge,  from  rock  to  rock, 
Sweeps  down  the  dread  abyss  with  desperate  shock? 
While  she,  within  her  lowly  cot,  which  graced 
The  Alpine  slope,  beside  the  waters  wild, 
Her  homely  cares  in  that  small  world  embraced, 
Secluded  lived,  a  simple  artless  child. 
Was't  not  enough,  in  thy  delirious  whirl 
To  blast  the  stedfast  rocks! 
Her,  and  her  peace  as  well, 
Must  I,  God-hated  one,  to  ruin  hurl  I 
Dost  claim  this  holocaust,  remorseless  Hell! 
Fiend,  help  me  to  cut  short  the  hours  of  dread ! 


FAUST  — PART  I  373 

Let  what  must  happen,  happen  speedily ! 
Her  direful  doom  fall  crushing  on  my  head, 
And  into  ruin  let  her  plunge  with  me ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why  how  again  it  seethes  and  glows ! 
Away,  thou  fool !    Her  torment  ease ! 
When  such  a  head  no  issue  sees, 
It  pictures  straight  the  final  close. 
Long  life  to  him  who  boldly  dares ! 
A  devil's  pluck  thou'rt  wont  to  show; 
As  for  a  devil  who  despairs  — 
Nothing  I  find  so  mawkish  here  below. 

MARGARET'S  ROOM 
MARGABET  (alone  at  her  spinning  wheel) 
My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore, 
I  find  it  never, 

And  nevermore ! 

Where  him  I  have  not, 

Is  the  grave ;  and  all 
The  world  to  me 

Is  turned  to  gall. 

My  wilder 'd  brain 

Is  overwrought; 
My  feeble  senses 

Are  distraught. 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore, 
I  find  it  never, 

And  nevermore ! 

For  him  from  the  window 

I  gaze,  at  home ; 
For  him  and  him  only 

Abroad  I  roam. 


374  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

His  lofty  step, 
His  bearing  high, 

The  smile  of  his  lip, 
The  power  of  his  eye, 

His  witching  words, 
Their  tones  of  bliss, 

His  hand's  fond  pressure, 
And  ah — his  kiss! 

My  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore, 

I  find  it  never, 
And  nevermore. 

My  bosom  aches 

To  feel  him  near ; 
Ah,  could  I  clasp 

And  fold  him  here ! 

Kiss  him  and  kiss  him 

Again  would  I, 
And  on  his  kisses 

I  fain  would  die. 

MARTHA'S  GARDEN 

MARGARET  and  FAUST 

MARGARET 

Promise  me,  Henry! 

FAUST 

What  I  can! 

MARGARET 

How  thy  religion  fares,  I  fain  would  hear. 
Thou  art  a  good  kind-hearted  man, 
Only  that  way  not  well-disposed,  I  fear. 

FAUST 

Forbear,  my  child !    Thou  f eelest  thee  I  love ; 
My  heart,  my  blood  I'd  give,  my  love  to  prove, 
And  none  would  of  their  faith  or  church  bereave. 


FAUST  — PAET  I  375 

MAEGARET 

That's  not  enough,  we  must  ourselves  believe! 

FAUST 
Must  we? 

MABGABET 

Ah,  could  I  but  thy  soul  inspire ! 
Thou  honorest  not  the  sacraments,  alas ! 

FAUST 
I  honor  them. 

MABGARET 

But  yet  without  desire ; 

Tis  long  since  thou  hast  been  either  to  shrift  or  mass. 
Dost  thou  believe  in  God? 

FAUST 

My  darling,  who  dares  say? 

Yes,  I  in  God  believe.  • 

Question  or  priest  or  sage,  and  they 
Seem,  in  the  answer  you  receive, 
To  mock  the  questioner. 

MABGABET 

Then  thou  dost  not  believe? 

FAUST 

Sweet  one !  my  meaning  do  not  misconceive ! 

Him  who  dare  name, 

And  who  proclaim — 

Him  I  believe? 

Who  that  can  feel, 

His  heart  can  steel, 

To  say:    I  believe  him  not? 

The  All-embracer, 

All-sustainer, 

Holds  and  sustains  he  not 

Thee,  me,  himself? 

Lifts  not  the  Heaven  its  dome  above? 

Doth  not  the  firm-set  earth  beneath  us  lie  ? 

And,  beaming  tenderly  with  looks  of  love, 


376  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Climb  not  the  everlasting  stars  on  high? 

Do  we  not  gaze  into  each  other's  eyes? 

Nature's  impenetrable  agencies, 

Are  they  not  thronging  on  thy  heart  and  brain, 

Viewless,  or  visible  to  mortal  ken, 

Around  thee  weaving  their  mysterious  chain? 

Fill  thence  thy  heart,  how  large  soe'er  it  be; 

And  in  the  feeling  when  thou  utterly  art  blest, 

Then  call  it,  what  thou  wilt  — 

Call  it  Bliss!    Heart!    Love!    God! 

I  have  no  name  for  it ! 

'Tis  feeling  all; 

Name  is  but  sound  and  smoke 

Shrouding  the  glow  of  heaven. 

MAKGABET 

All  this  is  doubtless  good  and  fair; 
Almost  the  same  the  parson  says, 
Only  in  slightly  different  phrase. 

FAUST 

Beneath  Heaven's  sunshine,  everywhere, 
This  is  the  utterance  of  the  human  heart ; 
Each  in  his  language  doth  the  like  impart; 
Then  why  not  I  in  mine? 

MAKGABET 

What  thus  I  hear 

Sounds  plausible,  yet  I'm  not  reconciled; 
There 's  something  wrong  about  it ;  much  I  fear 
That  thou  art  not  a  Christian. 

FAUST 

My  sweet  child! 

MABGABET 

Alas !  it  long  hath  sorely  troubled  me, 
To  see  thee  in  such  odious  company. 

FAUST 

How  so? 


FAUST  — PART  I  377 

MAEGAKET 

The  man  who  comes  with  thee,  I  hate, 
Yea,  in  my  spirit's  inmost  depths  abhor; 
As  his  loath 'd  visage,  in  my  life  before, 
Naught  to  my  heart  e'er  gave  a  pang  so  great 

FAUST 
Him  fear  not,  my  sweet  love ! 

MARGARET 

His  presence  chills  my  blood. 
Toward  all  beside  I  have  a  kindly  mood ; 
Yet,  though  I  yearn  to  gaze  on  thee,  I  feel 
At  sight  of  him  strange  horror  o  'er  me  steal ; 
That  he 's  a  villain  my  conviction 's  strong. 
May  Heaven  forgive  me,  if  I  do  him  wrong ! 

FAUST 

Yet  such  strange  fellows  in  the  world  must  be ! 

MARGARET 

I  would  not  live  with  such  an  one  as  he. 

If  for  a  moment  he  but  enter  here, 

He  looks  around  him  with  a  mocking  sneer, 

And  malice  ill-conceal 'd; 

That  he  with  naught  on  earth  can  sympathize  is  clear; 

Upon  his  brow  'tis  legibly  revealed 

That  to  his  heart  no  living  soul  is  dear. 

So  blest  I  feel,  within  thine  arms, 

So  warm  and  happy — free  from  all  alarms; 

And  still  my  heart  doth  close  when  he  comes  near. 

FAUST 

Foreboding  angel !  check  thy  fear ! 

MARGARET 

It  so  o'ermasters  me  that  when, 

Or  wheresoe'er,  his  step  I  hear, 

I  almost  think,  no  more  I  love  thee  then. 

Besides,  when  he  is  near,  I  ne'er  could  pray. 


378  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

This  eats  into  my  heart ;  with  thee 
The  same,  my  Henry,  it  must  be. 

FAUST 

This  is  antipathy! 

MAEGAEBT 

I  must  away. 

FAUST 

For  one  brief  hour  then  may  I  never  rest, 
And  heart  to  heart,  and  soul  to  soul  be  pressed! 

MARGARET 

Ah,  if  I  slept  alone !  Tonight 

The  bolt  I  fain  would  leave  undrawn  for  thee ; 

But  then  my  mother's  sleep  is  light, 

Were  we  surprised  by  her,  ah  me ! 

Upon  the  spot  I  should  be  dead. 

FAUST 

Dear  angel!  there's  no  cause  for  dread. 
Here  is  a  little  phial  —  if  she  take 
Mixed  in  her  drink  three  drops,  'twill  steep 
Her  nature  in  a  deep  and  soothing  sleep. 

MARGARET 

What  do  I  not  for  thy  dear  sake ! 
To  her  it  will  not  harmful  prove? 

FAUST 

Should  I  advise  it  else,  sweet  love! 

MARGARET 

I  know  not,  dearest,  when  thy  face  I  see, 

What  doth  my  spirit  to  thy  will  constrain ; 

Already  I  have  done  so  much  for  thee, 

That  scarcely  more  to  do  doth  now  remain.  [Exit.] 

(MEPHISTOPHELES  enters) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  monkey!    Is  she  gone? 

FAUST 
Again  hast  played  the  spy? 


FAUST  — PART  I  379 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  all  that  pass'd  I'm  well  apprized, 

I  heard  the  doctor  catechized, 

And  trust  he  '11  profit  much  thereby ! 

Fain  would  the  girls  inquire  indeed 

Touching  their  lover's  faith  and  creed, 

And  whether  pious  in  the  good  old  way; 

They  think,  if  pliant  there,  us  too  he  will  obey. 

FAUST 

Thou  monster,  dost  not  see  that  this 
Pure  soul,  possessed  by  ardent  love, 
Full  of  the  living  faith, 
To  her  of  bliss 

The  only  pledge,  must  holy  anguish  prove, 
Holding  the  man  she  loves  fore-doomed  to  endless  death! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Most  sensual,  supersensualist!    The  while 
A  damsel  leads  thee  by  the  nose! 

FAUST 
Of  filth  and  fire  abortion  vile ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  physiognomy  strange  skill  she  shows ; 
She  in  my  presence  feels  she  knows  not  how; 
My  mask  it  seems  a  hidden  sense  reveals ; 
That  I'm  a  genius  she  must  needs  allow, 
That  I'm  the  very  devil  perhaps  she  feels. 
So  then  tonight  — 

FAUST 
What's  that  to  yout 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I've  my  amusement  in  it  too! 

AT  THE  WELL 

MARGARET  and  BESSY,  with  pitchers 

BESSY 
Of  Barbara  hast  nothing  heard! 


380  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MAEGAEET 

I  rarely  go  from  home  —  no,  not  a  word. 

BESSY 

'Tis  true:  Sybilla  told  me  so  today! 
That  comes  of  being  proud,  methinks ; 
She  played  the  fool  at  last. 

MABGARET 

How  so? 

BESSY 

They  say 
That  two  she  feedeth  when  she  eats  and  drinks. 

MABGARET 

Alas! 

BESSY 

She's  rightly  served,  in  sooth. 
How  long  she  hung  upon  the  youth ! 
What  promenades,  what  jaunts  there  were 
To  dancing  booth  and  village  fair ! 
The  first  she  everywhere  must  shine, 
He  always  treating  her  to  pastry  and  to  wine. 
Of  her  good  looks  she  was  so  vain, 
So  shameless  too,  that  to  retain 
His  presents,  she  did  not  disdain ; 
Sweet  words  and  kisses  came  anon  — 
And  then  the  virgin  flower  was  gone. 

MABGABET 

Poor  thing! 

BESSY 

Forsooth  dost  pity  her? 
At  night,  when  at  our  wheels  we  sat, 
Abroad  our  mothers  ne  'er  would  let  us  stir. 
Then  with  her  lover  she  must  chat, 
Or  on  the  bench,  or  in  the  dusky  walk, 
Thinking  the  hours  too  brief  for  their  sweet  talk ; 
Her  proud  head  she  will  have  to  bow, 
And  in  white  sheet  do  penance  now! 


FAUST  — PART  I  381 

MARGARET 

But  he  will  surely  marry  her? 

BESSY 

Not  he! 

He  won't  be  such  a  fool!  a  gallant  lad 
Like  him  can  roam  o  'er  land  and  sea ; 
Besides,  he 's  off. 

MARGARET 

That  is  not  fair! 

BESSY 

If  she  should  get  him,  'twere  almost  as  bad! 
Her  myrtle  wreath  the  boys  would  tear ; 
And  then  we  girls  would  plague  her  too, 
For  we  chopp  'd  straw  before  her  door  would  strew ! 

[Exit.] 
MARGARET  (walking  toward  home) 

How  stoutly  once  I  could  inveigh, 

If  a  poor  maiden  went  astray ; 

Not  words  enough  my  tongue  could  find, 

'Gainst  others'  sin  to  speak  my  mind! 

Black  as  it  seemed,  I  blacken 'd  it  still  more, 

And  strove  to  make  it  blacker  than  before. 

And  did  myself  securely  bless  — 

Now  my  own  trespass  doth  appear! 

Yet  ah!  —  what  urg'd  me  to  transgress, 

God  knows,  it  was  so  sweet,  so  dear ! 

ZWINGEE 

Inclosure  between  the  City-wall  and  the  Gate.    (In  the  niche  of  the  watt  a 
devotional  image  of  the  Mater  doloroea,  with  flower-pots  before  it.) 

MARGARET  (putting  fresh  flowers  in  Hie  pots) 
Ah,  rich  in  sorrow,  thou, 
Stoop  thy  maternal  brow, 
And  mark  with  pitying  eye  my  misery ! 
The  sword  in  thy  pierced  heart, 


382  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Thou  dost  with  bitter  smart 

Gaze  upwards  on  thy  Son's  death  agony. 

To  the  dear  God  on  high 

Ascends  thy  piteous  sigh, 

Pleading  for  his  and  thy  sore  misery. 

Ah,  who  can  know 

The  torturing  woe, 

The  pangs  that  rack  me  to  the  bone? 

How  my  poor  heart,  without  relief, 

Trembles  and  throbs,  its  yearning  grief 

Thou  knowest,  thou  alone! 

Ah,  wheresoever  I  go, 

With  woe,  with  woe,  with  woe, 

My  anguish 'd  breast  is  aching! 

When  all  alone  I  creep, 

I  weep,  I  weep,  I  weep, 

Alas!  my  heart  is  breaking! 

The  flower-pots  at  my  window 
Were  wet  with  tears  of  mine, 
The  while  I  pluck 'd  these  blossoms 
At  dawn  to  deck  thy  shrine! 

When  early  in  my  chamber 
Shone  bright  the  rising  morn, 
I  sat  there  on  my  pallet, 
My  heart  with  anguish  torn. 

Help!  from  disgrace  and  death  deliver  me! 

Ah !  rich  in  sorrow,  thou, 

Stoop  thy  maternal  brow, 

And  mark  with  pitying  eye  my  misery ! 

NIGHT.      STREET   BEFORE   MARGARET'S   DOOR 

VALENTINE  (a  soldier,  MARGABET'S  brother) 
When  seated  'mong  the  jovial  crowd, 
Where  merry  comrades  boasting  loud 
Each  named  with  pride  his  favorite  lass, 


FAUST  — PART  I  383 

And  in  her  honor  drain 'd  his  glass; 
Upon  my  elbows  I  would  lean, 
With  easy  quiet  view  the  scene, 
Nor  give  my  tongue  the  rein,  until 
Each  swaggering  blade  had  talked  his  fill. 
Then  smiling  I  my  beard  would  stroke, 
The  while,  with  brimming  glass,  I  spoke; 
* '  Each  to  his  taste !  —  but  to  my  mind, 
Where  in  the  country  will  you  find, 
A  maid,  as  my  dear  Gretchen  fair, 
Who  with  my  sister  can  compare!  " 
Cling!  clang!  so  rang  the  jovial  sound! 
Shouts  of  assent  went  circling  round; 
Pride  of  her  sex  is  she!  —  cried  some; 
Then  were  the  noisy  boasters  dumb. 

And  now!  —  I  could  tear  out  my  hair, 
Or  dash  my  brains  out  in  despair!  — 
Me  every  scurvy  knave  may  twit, 
With  stinging  jest  and  taunting  sneer! 
Like  skulking  debtor  I  must  sit, 
And  sweat  each  casual  word  to  hear ! 
And  though  I  smash 'd  them  one  and  all, — 
Yet  them  I  could  not  liars  call. 

Who  comes  this  way?  who's  sneaking  heret 

If  I  mistake  not,  two  draw  near. 

If  he  be  one,  have  at  him; — well  I  wot 

Alive  he  shall  not  leave  this  spot! 

FAUST.     MEPHISTOPHELES 

FAUST 

How  far  from  yon  sacristy,  athwart  the  night, 
Its  beams  the  ever-burning  taper  throws, 
While  ever  waning,  fades  the  glimmering  light, 
As  gathering  darkness  doth  around  it  close! 
So  night  like  gloom  doth  in  my  bosom  reign. 


384  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'm  like  a  tom-cat  in  a  thievish  vein 
That  up  fire-ladders  tall  and  steep 
And  round  the  walls  doth  slyly  creep; 
Virtuous  withal   I  feel,  with,  I  confess, 
A  touch  of  thievish  joy  and  wantonness. 
Thus  through  my  limbs  already  burns 
The  glorious  Walpurgis  night! 
After  tomorrow  it  returns; 
Then  why  one  wakes,  one  knows  aright! 

FAUST 

Meanwhile,  the  treasure  I  see  glimmering  there. 
Will  it  ascend  into  the  open  air! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ere  long  thou  wilt  proceed  with  pleasure 
To  raise  the  casket  with  its  treasure ; 
I  took  a  peep,  therein  are  stored 
Of  lion-dollars  a  rich  hoard. 

FAUST 

And  not  a  trinket?  not  a  ring! 
Wherewith  my  lovely  girl  to  deck! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  saw  among  them  some  such  thing, 
A  string  of  pearls  to  grace  her  neck. 

FAUST 

'Tis  well!     I'm  always  loath  to  go, 
Without  some  gift  my  love  to  show. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Some  pleasures  gratis  to  enjoy 
Should  surely  cause  you  no  annoy. 
While  bright  with  stars  the  heavens  appear, 
I'll  sing  a  masterpiece  of  art: 
A  moral  song  shall  charm  her  ear, 
More  surely  to  beguile  her  heart. 
(Sings  to  the  guitar.) 


FAUST  — PAET  I  385 

Kathrina,  say, 

Why  lingering  stay 

At  dawn  of  day 

Before  your  lover 's  doorT 

Maiden,  beware, 

Nor  enter  there, 

Lest  forth  you  fare, 

A  maiden  never  more. 

Maiden  take  heed! 

Reck  well  my  rede ! 

Is't  done,  the  deed! 

Good  night,  you  poor,  poor  thing! 

The  spoiler's  lies, 

His  arts  despise, 

Nor  yield  your  prize, 

Without  the  marriage  ring! 

VALENTINE  (steps  forward) 
Whom  are  you  luring  here!     I'll  give  it  you! 
Accursed  rat-catchers,  your  strains  I'll  end! 
First,  to  the  devil  the  guitar  I'll  send! 
Then  to  the  devil  with  the  singer  too! 

•       MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  poor  guitar!  'tis  done  for  now. 

VALENTINE 

Your  skull  shall  follow  next,  I  trow! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to  FAUST ) 

Doctor,  stand  fast!  your  strength  collect! 
Be  prompt,  and  do  as  I  direct. 
Out  with  your  whisk!  keep  close,  I  pray, 
I'll  parry!  do  you  thrust  away! 

VALENTINE 

Then  parry  that! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why  not! 

VOL.  1  —  25 


386  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

VALENTINE 

That  too! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

With  ease! 

VALENTINE 

The  devil  fights  for  you! 
Why  how  is  this?  my  hand's  already  lamed! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to  FAUST) 

Thrust  home! 

VALENTINE    (falls) 

Alas! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

There!     Now  the  lubber's  tamed! 
But  quick,  away !    We  must  at  once  take  wing ; 
A  cry  of  murder  strikes  upon  the  ear; 
With  the  police  I  know  my  course  to  steer, 
But  with  the  blood-ban  'tis  another  thing. 

MARTHA  (at  the  window) 
Without!  without! 

MARGARET  (at  the  window) 
Quick,  bring  a  light! 

MARTHA  (as  above) 
They  rail  and  scuffle,  scream  and  fight ! 

PEOPLE 
One  lieth  here  already  dead! 

MARTHA  (coming  out) 
Where  are  the  murderers!  are  they  fledT 

MARGARET  (coming  out) 
Who  lieth  here? 

PEOPLE 
Thy  mother's  son. 

MARGARET 

Almighty  God!     I  am  undone! 


FAUST  — PAETI  387 

VALENTINE 

I'm  dying — 'tis  a  soon- told  tale, 
And  sooner  done  the  deed. 
Why,  women,  do  ye  howl  and  wail! 
To  my  last  words  give  heed ! 

[All  gather  round  him.] 
My  Gretchen,  see !  still  young  art  thou, 
Art  not  discreet  enough,  I  trow, 
Thou  dost  thy  matters  ill; 
Let  this  in  confidence  be  said: 
Since  thou  the  path  of  shame  dost  tread, 
Tread  it  with  right  good  will! 

MARGARET 

My  brother!    God!  what  can  this  mean? 

VALENTINE 

Abstain, 

Nor  dare  God's  holy  name  profane! 
What's  done,  alas,  is  done  and  past! 
Matters  will  take  their  course  at  last; 
By  stealth  thou  dost  begin  with  one, 
Others  will  follow  him  anon; 
And  when  a  dozen  thee  have  known, 
Thou 'It  common  be  to  all  the  town. 
When  infamy  is  newly  born, 
In  secret  she  is  brought  to  light, 
And  the  mysterious  veil  of  night 
O'er  head  and  ears  is  drawn; 
The  loathsome  birth  men  fain  would  slay; 
But  soon,  full  grown,  she  waxes  bold, 
And  though  not  fairer  to  behold, 
With  brazen  front  insults  the  day : 
The  more  abhorrent  to  the  sight, 
The  more  she  courts  the  day's  pure  light, 

The  time  already  I  discern, 

When  thee  all  honest  folk  will  spurn, 

And  shun  thy  hated  form  to  meet, 


388  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

As  when  a  corpse  infects  the  street. 
Thy  heart  will  sink  in  blank  despair, 
When  they  shall  look  thee  in  the  face! 
A  golden  chain  no  more  thou'lt  wear! 
Nor  near  the  altar  take  in  church  thy  place ! 
In  fair  lace  collar  simply  dight 
Thou'lt  dance  no  more  with  spirits  light! 
In  darksome  corners  thou  wilt  bide, 
Where  beggars  vile  and  cripples  hide, 
And  e'en  though  God  thy  crime  forgive, 
On  earth,  a  thing  accursed,  thou'lt  live! 

MARTHA 

Your  parting  soul  to  God  commend! 

Your  dying  breath  in  slander  will  you  spend! 

VALENTINE 

Could  I  but  reach  thy  wither 'd  frame, 
Thou  wretched  beldame,  void  of  shame! 
Full  measure  I  might  hope  to  win 
Of  pardon  then  for  every  sin. 

MARGARET 

Brother!  what  agonizing  pain! 

VALENTINE 

I  tell  thee,  from  vain  tears  abstain ! 
'Twas  thy  dishonor  pierced  my  heart, 
Thy  fall  the  fatal  death-stab  gave. 
Through  the  death-sleep  I  now  depart 
To  God,  a  soldier  true  and  brave. 

[Dies.] 

CATHEDRAL 

Service,  Organ,  and  Anthem. 
MARGARET  amongst  a  number  of  people 

EVIL-SPIRIT  behind  MARGARET 

EVIL-SPIRIT 

How  different,  Gretchen,  was  it  once  with  thee, 
When  thou,  still  full  of  innocence, 


Permission   Deutsche   Verlags-Anstalt,   Stuttgart 

VALENTINE'S  DEATH 


FRANZ    SIMM 


FAUST  — PAETI  389 

Here  to  the  altar  earnest, 

And  from  the  small  and  well-con 'd  book 

Didst  lisp  thy  prayer, 

Half  childish  sport, 

Half  God  in  thy  young  heart! 

Gretchen ! 

What  thoughts  are  thine? 

What  deed  of  shame 

Lurks  in  thy  sinful  heart? 

Is  thy  prayer  utter 'd  for  thy  mother 's  soul, 

Who  into  long,  long  torment  slept  through  thee? 

Whose  blood  is  on  thy  threshold?  — 

And  stirs  there  not  already  'neath  thy  heart 

Another  quick 'ning  pulse,  that  even  now 

Tortures  itself  and  thee 

With  its  foreboding  presence? 

MARGARET 

Woe!     Woe! 

Oh,  could  I  free  me  from  the  thoughts 
That  hither,  thither,  crowd  upon  my  brain, 
Against  my  will ! 

CHORUS 

Dies  irce,  dies  ilia, 
Solvet  sceclum  in  favilla. 

[The  organ  sounds.] 

EVIL-SPIRIT 

Grim  horror  seizes  thee! 
The  trumpet  sounds ! 
The  graves  are  shaken! 
And  thy  heart 
From  ashy  rest 
For  torturing  flames 
Anew  created, 
Trembles  into  life! 


390  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MARGARET 

Would  I  were  hence  I 
It  is  as  if  the  organ 
Choked  my  breath, 
As  if  the  choir 
Melted  my  inmost  heart! 
CHORUS 

Judex  ergo  cum  sedebit, 

Quidquid  latet  adparebit, 

Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

MARGARET 

I  feel  oppressed! 

The  pillars  of  the  wall 

Imprison  me! 

The  vaulted  roof 

Weighs  down  upon  me!  —  air! 

EVIL-SPIRIT 

Wouldst  hide  thee  ?  sin  and  shame 
Eemain  not  hidden! 
Air!  light! 
Woe's  thee! 

CHORUS 

Quid  sum  miser  tune  dicturus? 

Quern  patronum  rogaturus! 

Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus. 

EVIL-SPIRIT 

The  glorified  their  faces  turn 
Away  from  thee! 
Shudder  the  pure  to  reach 
Their  hands  to  thee! 
Woe! 

CHORUS 

Quid  sum  miser  tune  dicturus  — 

MARGARET 

Neighbor!  your  smelling  bottle! 

[She  swoons  away.] 


*M  us 


390  i  SRM  AN  CLASSICS 

aGARET 

hence  ! 

organ 

th, 

A-.  •    choir 

Me  inmost  heart! 

CHORUS 

Judex  ergo  cunt  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet  adparebit, 
NU  inultwn  remanebit. 

MABQABET 

I  feel  oppressed! 
The  pillars  of  the  wall 
Imprison  i 
The  vaulted  roof 


EVTL-SPIRIT 

Wouldst  hide  thee?  sin  and  shame 

Bemain  not  hidden  I 

Air!  light! 

Woe's  thee! 

OTSOBTJS 

Quid  sum  mi-ser  tune  diet  urusf 
Quern  patromim  rogaiurus! 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus. 

EVIL-SPIBIT 

Th*»  glorified  their  faces  turn 
adder  the  pure  to  reach 


ike 


MABGA 

Neigh  -ing  bottle!    . 

[She  swoons  away.] 


FAUST  — PAET  I  391 

WALPURGIS-NIGHT 

THE    HARTZ    MOUNTAINS.      DISTRICT    OF 
SCHIERKE  AND  ELEND 

FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  broomstick  dost  thou  not  at  least  desire? 
The  roughest  he-goat  fain  would  I  bestride, 
By  this  road  from  our  goal  we're  still  far  wide. 

FAUST 

While  fresh  upon  my  legs,  so  long  I  naught  require, 

Except  this  knotty  staff.     Beside, 

What  boots  it  to  abridge  a  pleasant  way? 

Along  the  labyrinth  of  these  vales  to  creep, 

Then  scale  these  rocks,  whence,  in  eternal  spray, 

Adown  the  cliffs  the  silvery  fountains  leap: 

Such  is  the  joy  that  seasons  paths  like  these  1 

Spring  weaves  already  in  the  birchen  trees ; 

E  'en  the  late  pine-grove  feels  her  quickening  powers ; 

Should  she  not  work  within  these  limbs  of  ours? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Naught  of  this  genial  influence  do  I  know! 
Within  me  all  is  wintry.     Frost  and  snow 
I  should  prefer  my  dismal  path  to  bound. 
How  sadly,  yonder,  with  belated  glow 
Rises  the  ruddy  moon's  imperfect  round, 
Shedding  so  faint  a  light,  at  every  tread 
One's  sure  to  stumble  'gainst  a  rock  or  tree! 
An  Ignis  Fatuus  I  must  call  instead. 
Yonder  one  burning  merrily,  I  see. 
Holla !  my  friend !  may  I  request  your  light? 
Why  should  you  flare  away  so  uselessly! 
Be  kind  enough  to  show  us  up  the  height! 


392  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

IGNIS  FATUUS 

Through  reverence,  I  hope  I  may  subdue 
The  lightness  of  my  nature;  true, 
Our  course  is  but  a  zigzag  one. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ho !  ho ! 

So  men,  forsooth,  he  thinks  to  imitate! 
Now,  in  the  devil's  name,  for  once  go  straight! 
Or  out  at  once  your  flickering  life  I'll  blow. 

IGNIS  FATUUS 

That  you  are  master  here  is  obvious  quite ; 

To  do  your  will,  I'll  cordially  essay; 

Only  reflect!     The  hill  is  magic-mad  tonight; 

And  if  to  show  the  path  you  choose  a  meteor's  light, 

You  must  not  wonder  should  we  go  astray. 

FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES,  IGNIS  FATUUS  (in  alternate  song) 
Through  the  dream  and  magic-sphere, 
As  it  seems,  we  now  are  speeding; 
Honor  win,  us  rightly  leading, 
That  betimes  we  may  appear 
In  yon  wide  and  desert  region! 

Trees  on  trees,  a  stalwart  legion, 
Swiftly  past  us  are  retreating, 
And  the  cliffs  with  lowly  greeting; 
Rocks  long-snouted,  row  on  row, 
How  they  snort,  and  how  they  blow! 

Through  the  stones  and  heather  springing, 
Brook  and  brooklet  haste  below; 
Hark  the  rustling!     Hark  the  singing! 
Hearken  to  love's  plaintive  lays; 
Voices  of  those  heavenly  days  — 
What  we  hope,  and  what  we  love ! 
Like  a  tale  of  olden  time, 
Echo's  voice  prolongs  the  chime. 


FAUST  — PAET  I  393 

To-whit !     To-who !     It  sounds  more  near ; 

Plover,  owl,  and  jay  appear, 

All  awake,  around,  above? 

Paunchy  salamanders  too 

Peer,  long-limbed,  the  bushes  through ! 

And,  like  snakes,  the  roots  of  trees 

Coil  themselves  from  rock  and  sand, 

Stretching  many  a  wondrous  band, 

Us  to  frighten,  us  to  seize; 

From  rude  knots  with  life  embued, 

Polyp-fangs  abroad  they  spread, 

To  snare  the  wanderer !     'Neath  our  tread, 

Mice,  in  myriads,  thousand-hued, 

Through  the  heath  and  through  the  moss ! 

And  the  fire-flies'  glittering  throng, 

Wildering  escort,  whirls  along, 

Here  and  there,  our  path  across. 

Tell  me,  stand  we  motionless, 
Or  still  forward  do  we  press? 
All  things  round  us  whirl  and  fly, 
Bocks  and  trees  make  strange  grimaces, 
Dazzling  meteors  change  their  places  — 
How  they  puff  and  multiply! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  grasp  my  doublet — we  at  last 
A  central  peak  have  reached,  which  shows, 
If  round  a  wondering  glance  we  cast, 
How  in  the  mountain  Mammon  glows. 

FAUST 

How  through  the  chasms  strangely  gleams, 
A  lurid  light,  like  dawn's  red  glow, 
Pervading  with  its  quivering  beams, 
The  gorges  of  the  gulf  below ! 
Here  vapors  rise,  there  clouds  float  by, 
Here  through  the  mist  the  light  doth  shine; 
Now,  like  a  fount,  it  bursts  on  high, 


394  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Meanders  now,  a  slender  line; 
Far  reaching,  with  a  hundred  veins, 
Here  through  the  valley  see  it  glide; 
Here,  where  its  force  the  gorge  restrains, 
At  once  it  scatters,  far  and  wide; 
Anear,  like  showers  of  golden  sand 
Strewn  broadcast,  sputter  sparks  of  light: 
And  mark  yon  rocky  walls  that  stand 
Ablaze,  in  all  their  towering  height ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Doth  not  Sir  Mammon  for  this  fete 

Grandly  illume  his  palace!     Thou 

Art  lucky  to  have  seen  it;  now, 

The  boisterous  guests,  I  feel,  are  coming  straight. 

FAUST 

How  through  the  air  the  storm  doth  whirl! 
Upon  my  neck  it  strikes  with  sudden  shock. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Cling  to  these  ancient  ribs  of  granite  rock, 

Else  to  yon  depths  profound  it  you  will  hurl. 

A  murky  vapor  thickens  night. 

Hark !     Through  the  woods  the  tempests  roar ! 

The  owlets  flit  in  wild  affright. 

Hark!     Splinter 'd  are  the  columns  that  upbore 

The  leafy  palace,  green  for  aye: 

The  shivered  branches  whirr  and  sigh, 

Yawn  the  huge  trunks  with  mighty  groan, 

The  roots,  upriven,  creak  and  moan! 

In  fearful  and  entangled  fall, 

One  crashing  ruin  whelms  them  all, 

While  through  the  desolate  abyss, 

Sweeping  the  wreck-strewn  precipice, 

The  raging  storm-blasts  howl  and  hiss! 

Aloft  strange  voices  dost  thou  heart 

Distant  now  and  now  more  near? 

Hark!  the  mountain  ridge  along, 

Streameth  a  raving  magic-song! 


FAUST  — PAET  I  395 

WITCHES  (in  chorus) 
Now  to  the  Brocken  the  witches  hie, 
The  stubble  is  yellow,  the  corn  is  green; 
Thither  the  gathering  legions  fly, 
And  sitting  aloft  is  Sir  Urian  seen : 
O'er  stick  and  o'er  stone  they  go  whirling  along, 
Witches  and  he-goats,  a  motley  throng. 

VOICES 

Alone  old  Baubo's  coming  now; 
She  rides  upon  a  farrow  sow. 

CHORUS 

Honor  to  her,  to  whom  honor  is  due! 
Forward,  Dame  Baubo!     Honor  to  you! 
A  goodly  sow  and  mother  thereon, 
The  whole  witch  chorus  follows  anon. 

VOICE 
Which  way  didst  come? 

VOICE 

0  'er  Ilsenstein  I 

There  I  peep'd  in  an  owlet's  nest. 
With  her  broad  eye  she  gazed  in  mine! 

VOICE 

Drive  to  the  devil,  thou  hellish  pest! 
Why  ride  so  hard? 

VOICE 

She  has  graz'd  my  side, 
Look  at  the  wounds,  how  deep  and  how  wide  I 

WITCHES  (in  chorus) 
The  way  is  broad,  the  way  is  long; 
What  mad  pursuit !     What  tumult  wild ! 
Scratches  the  besom  and  sticks  the  prong; 
Crush 'd  is  the  mother,  and  stifled  the  child. 

WIZARDS  (half  chorus) 
Like  house-encumber 'd  snail  we  creep; 
While  far  ahead  the  women  keep, 


396  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

For  when  to  the  devil's  house  we  speed, 
By  a  thousand  steps  they  take  the  lead. 

THE  OTHER  HALF 

Not  so,  precisely  do  we  view  it;  — 
They  with  a  thousand  steps  may  do  it; 
But  let  them  hasten  as  they  can, 
With  one  long  bound  'tis  clear 'd  by  man. 

VOICES  (above) 
Come  with  us,  come  with  us  from  Felsensee. 

VOICES  (from  below) 

Aloft  to  you  we  would  mount  with  glee! 
We  wash,  and  free  from  all  stain  are  we, 
Yet  barren  evermore  must  be! 

BOTH  CHORUSES 

The  wind  is  hushed,  the  stars  grow  pale, 
The  pensive  moon  her  light  doth  veil; 
And  whirling  on,  the  magic  choir 
Sputters  forth  sparks  of  drizzling  fire. 

VOICE  (from  below) 
Stay!  stay! 

VOICE  (from  above) 

What  voice  of  woe 
Calls  from  the  cavern 'd  depths  below? 

VOICE  (from  below) 
Take  me  with  you !     Oh  take  me  too ! 
Three  centuries  I  climb  in  vain, 
And  yet  can  ne  'er  the  summit  gain ! 
To  be  with  my  kindred  I  am  fain. 

BOTH  CHORUSES 

Broom  and  pitch-fork,  goat  and  prong, 
Mounted  on  these  we  whirl  along; 
Who  vainly  strives  to  climb  tonight, 
Is  evermore  a  luckless  wight! 


FAUST  — PAET  I  397 

DEMI- WITCH   (below) 

I  hobble  after,  many  a  day; 
Already  the  others  are  far  away! 
No  rest  at  home  can  I  obtain  — 
Here  too  my  efforts  are  in  vain! 

CHORUS  OF  WITCHES 

Salve  gives  the  witches  strength  to  rise; 
A  rag  for  a  sail  does  well  enough ; 
A  goodly  ship  is  every  trough ; 
Tonight  who  flies  not,  never  flies. 

BOTH  CHORUSES 

And  when  the  topmost  peak  we  round, 
Then  alight  ye  on  the  ground; 
The  heath 's  wide  regions  cover  ye 
"With  your  mad  swarms  of  witchery! 

[They  let  themselves  down.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

They  crowd  and  jostle,  whirl  and  flutter! 
They  whisper,  babble,  twirl,  and  splutter! 
They  glimmer,  sparkle,  stink  and  flare  — 
A  true  witch-element!     Beware! 
Stick  close !  else  we  shall  severed  be. 
Where  art  thou? 

FAUST  (in  the  distance) 
Here! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Already,  whirl 'd  so  far  away! 
The  master  then  indeed  I  needs  must  play. 
Give  ground!     Squire  Voland  comes!     Sweet  folk,  give 

ground ! 

Here,  doctor,  grasp  me!     With  a  single  bound 
Let  us  escape  this  ceaseless  jar; 
Even  for  me  too  mad  these  people  are. 
Hard  by  there  shineth  something  with  peculiar  glare, 
Yon  brake  allureth  me ;  it  is  not  far ; 
Come,  come  along  with  me!  we'll  slip  in  there. 


398  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

Spirit  of  contradiction!    Lead!  I'll  follow  straight! 
Twas  wisely  done,  however,  to  repair 
On  May-night  to  the  Brocken,  and  when  there, 
By  our  own  choice  ourselves  to  isolate! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Mark,  of  those  flames  the  motley  glare! 
A  merry  club  assembles  there. 
In  a  small  circle  one  is  not  alone. 

FAUST 

I'd  rather  be  above,  though,  I  must  own! 
Already  fire  and  eddying  smoke  I  view; 
The  impetuous  millions  to  the  devil  ride; 
Full  many  a  riddle  will  be  there  untied. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ay!  and  full  many  a  riddle  tied  anew. 

But  let  the  great  world  rave  and  riot! 

Here  will  we  house  ourselves  in  quiet. 

A  custom  'tis  of  ancient  date, 

Our  lesser  worlds  within  the  great  world  to  create! 

Young  witches  there  I  see,  naked  and  bare, 

And  old  ones,  veil'd  more  prudently. 

For  my  sake  only  courteous  be! 

The  trouble  small,  the  sport  is  rare. 

Of  instruments  I  hear  the  cursed  din  — 

One  must  get  used  to  it.     Come  in !  come  in ! 

There's  now  no  help  for  it.     I'll  step  before, 

And  introducing  you  as  my  good  friend, 

Confer  on  you  one  obligation  more. 

How  say  you  now?     'Tis  no  such  paltry  room; 

Why  only  look,  you  scarce  can  see  the  end. 

A  hundred  fires  in  rows  disperse  the  gloom; 

They  dance,  they  talk,  they  cook,  make  love,  and  drink; 

"Where  could  we  find  aught  better,  do  you  think? 


FAUST  — PAET  I  399 

FAUST 

To  introduce  us,  do  you  purpose  here 
As  devil  or  as  wizard  to  appear? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Though  I  am  wont  indeed  to  strict  incognito, 

Yet  upon  gala-days  one  must  one's  orders  show. 

No  garter  have  I  to  distinguish  me, 

Nathless  the  cloven  foot  doth  here  give  dignity. 

Seest  thou  yonder  snail?     Crawling  this  way  she  hies; 

With  searching  feelers,  she,  no  doubt, 

Hath  me  already  scented  out; 

Here,  even  if  I  would,  for  me  there's  no  disguise. 

From  fire  to  fire,  we'll  saunter  at  our  leisure, 

The  gallant  you,  I'll  cater  for  your  pleasure. 

(To  a  party  seated  round  some  expiring  embers) 
Old  gentleman,  apart,  why  sit  ye  moping  here  ? 
Ye  in  the  midst  should  be  of  all  this  jovial  cheer, 
Girt  round  with  noise  and  youthful  riot; 
At  home  one  surely  has  enough  of  quiet. 

GENERAL 

In  nations  put  his  trust,  who  may, 
Whate  'er  for  them  one  may  have  done ; 
For  with  the  people,  as  with  women,  they 
Honor  your  rising  stars  alone! 

MINISTER 

Now  all  too  far  they  wander  from  the  right; 
I  praise  the  good  old  ways,  to  them  I  hold, 
Then  was  the  genuine  age  of  gold, 
When  we  ourselves  were  foremost  in  men's  sight. 

PARVENU 

Ne'er  were  we  'mong  your  dullards  found, 
And  what  we  ought  not,  that  to  do  were  fair; 
Yet  now  are  all  things  turning  round  and  round, 
When  on  firm  basis  we  would  them  maintain. 


400  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

AUTHOR 

Who,  as  a  rule,  a  treatise  now  would  care 

To  read,  of  even  moderate  sense? 

As  for  the  rising  generation,  ne'er 

Has  youth  displayed  such  arrogant  pretense. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (suddenly  appearing  very  old) 
Since  for  the  last  time  I  the  Brocken  scale, 
That  folk  are  ripe  for  doomsday,  now  one  sees; 
And  just  because  my  cask  begins  to  fail, 
So  the  whole  world  is  also  on  the  lees. 

HUCKSTER- WITCH 

Stop,  gentlemen,  nor  pass  me  by, 

Of  wares  I  have  a  choice  collection: 

Pray  honor  them  with  your  inspection. 

Lose  not  this  opportunity! 

Yet  nothing  in  my  booth  you'll  find 

Without  its  counterpart  on  earth ;  there 's  naught, 

Which  to  the  world,  and  to  mankind, 

Hath  not  some  direful  mischief  wrought. 

No  dagger  here,  which  hath  not  flow'd  with  blood, 

No  chalice,  whence,  into  some  healthy  frame 

Hath  not  been  poured  hot  poison's  wasting  flood. 

No  trinket,  but  hath  wrought  some  woman's  shame, 

No  weapon  but  hath  cut  some  sacred  tie, 

Or  from  behind  hath  stabb'd  an  enemy. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Gossip!     For  wares  like  these  the  time's  gone  by, 
What's  done  is  past!  what's  past  is  done! 
With  novelties  your  booth  supply; 
Us  novelties  attract  alone. 

FAUST 

May  this  wild  scene  my  senses  spare! 
This,  may  in  truth  be  called  a  fair! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Upward  the  eddying  concourse  throng; 
Thinking  to  push,  thyself  art  push'd  along. 


FAUST  — PAET  I  401 

FAUST 

Who's  that,  prayT 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Mark  her  well!     That's  Lilith. 

FAUST 

Who! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Adam 's  first  wife.    Of  her  rich  locks  beware ! 
That  charm  in  which  she's  parallel 'd  by  few, 
When  in  its  toils  a  youth  she  doth  ensnare 
He  will  not  soon  escape,  I  promise  you. 

FAUST 

There  sit  a  pair,  the  old  one  with  the  young; 
Already  they  have  bravely  danced  and  sprung ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Here  there  is  no  repose  today. 

Another  dance  begins;  we'll  join  it,  come  away! 

FAUST  (dancing  with  the  young  one) 
Once  a  fair  vision  came  to  me; 
Therein  I  saw  an  apple-tree, 
Two  beauteous  apples  charmed  mine  eyes ; 
I  climb 'd  forthwith  to  reach  the  prize. 

THE  FAIB  ONE 

Apples  still  fondly  ye  desire, 
From  paradise  it  hath  been  so. 
Feelings  of  joy  my  breast  inspire 
That  such  too  in  my  garden  grow. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (ivith  the  old  one} 
Once  a  weird  vision  came  to  me; 
Therein  I  saw  a  rifted  tree. 

It  had  a ; 

But  as  it  was  it  pleased  me  too. 

THE  OLD  ONE 

I  beg  most  humbly  to  salute 
VOL.  1  —  26 


402  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

The  gallant  with  the  cloven  foot ! 
Let  him    .     .     .    have  ready  here, 
If  he  a    .    .    .    does  not  fear. 

PROCTOPHANTASMIST 

Accursed  mob!     How  dare  ye  thus  to  meett 
Have  I  not  shown  and  demonstrated  too, 
That  ghosts  stand  not  on  ordinary  feet? 
Yet  here  ye  dance,  as  other  mortals  do! 

THE  FAIR  ONE  (dancing) 
Then  at  our  ball,  what  doth  he  here? 

FAUST  (dancing) 

Oh !    He  must  everywhere  appear. 
He  must  adjudge,  when  others  dance; 
If  on  each  step  his  say's  not  said, 
So  is  that  step  as  good  as  never  made. 
He's  most  annoyed,  so  soon  as  we  advance; 
If  ye  would  circle  in  one  narrow  round, 
As  he  in  his  old  mill,  then  doubtless  he 
Your  dancing  would  approve, —  especially 
If  ye  forthwith  salute  him  with  respect  profound ! 

PROCTOPHANTASMIST 

Still  here !  what  arrogance !  unheard  of  quite ! 

Vanish ;  we  now  have  fill  'd  the  world  with  light ! 

Laws  are  unheeded  by  the  devil's  host; 

Wise  as  we  are,  yet  Tegel  hath  its  ghost ! 

How  long  at  this  conceit  I've  swept  with  all  my  might, 

Lost  is  the  labor :  'tis  unheard  of  quite ! 

THE  FAIR  ONE 

Cease  here  to  teaze  us  any  more,  I  pray. 

PROCTOPHANTASMIST 

Spirits,  I  plainly  to  your  face  declare: 
No  spiritual  control  myself  will  bear, 
Since  my  own  spirit  can  exert  no  sway. 

[The  dancing  continues.] 


FAUST  — PAETI  403 

Tonight,  I  see,  I  shall  in  naught  succeed; 
But  I'm  prepared  my  travels  to  pursue, 
And  hope,  before  my  final  step  indeed, 
To  triumph  over  bards  and  devils  too. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  in  some  puddle  will  he  take  his  station, 
Such  is  his  mode  of  seeking  consolation ; 
Where  leeches,  feasting  on  his  rump,  will  drain 
Spirits  alike  and  spirit  from  his  brain. 

(To  FAUST,  who  has  left  the  dance) 
But  why  the  charming  damsel  leave,  I  pray, 
Who  to  you  in  the  dance  so  sweetly  sang? 

FAUST 

Ah!  in  the  very  middle  of  her  lay, 
Out  of  her  mouth  a  small  red  mouse  there  sprang. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Suppose  there  did !     One  must  not  be  too  nice. 
'Twas  well  it  was  not  gray,  let  that  suffice. 
Who  'mid  his  pleasures  for  a  trifle  cares! 

FAUST 
Then  saw  I  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What? 

FAUST 

Mephisto,  seest  thou  there 
Standing  far  off,  a  lone  child,  pale  and  fair? 
Slow  from  the  spot  her  drooping  form  she  tears, 
And  seems  with  shackled  feet  to  move  along; 
I  own,  within  me  the  delusion's  strong, 
That  she  the  likeness  of  my  Gretchen  wears. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Gaze  not  upon  her !     'Tis  not  good !     Forbear ! 
'Tis  lifeless,  magical,  a  shape  of  air, 
An  idol.     Such  to  meet  with,  bodes  no  good ; 
That  rigid  look  of  hers  doth  freeze  man's  blood, 


404  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  well-nigh  petrifies  his  heart  to  stone :  — 
The  story  of  Medusa  thou  hast  known. 

FATJST 

Ay,  verily!  a  corpse's  eyes  are  those, 
Which  there  was  no  fond  loving  hand  to  close. 
That  is  the  bosom  I  so  fondly  press 'd, 
That  my  sweet  Gretchen's  form,  so  oft  caress 'd! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Deluded  fool!      'Tis  magic,  I  declare! 

To  each  she  doth  his  lov'd  one's  image  wear. 

FAUST 

What  bliss !  what  torture !  vainly  I  essay 
To  turn  me  from  that  piteous  look  away. 
How  strangely  doth  a  single  crimson  line 
Around  that  lovely  neck  its  coil  entwine, 
It  shows  no  broader  than  a  knife 's  blunt  edge ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Quite  right.     I  see  it  also,  and  allege 

That  she  beneath  her  arm  her  head  can  bear, 

Since  Perseus  cut  it  off. —  But  you  I  swear 

Are  craving  for  illusions  still ! 

Come  then,  ascend  yon  little  hill! 

As  on  the  Prater  all  is  gay, 

And  if  my  senses  are  not  gone, 

I  see  a  theatre, — what's  going  onf 

SEBVIBILIS 

They  are  about  to  recommence;  —  the  play 
Will  be  the  last  of  seven,  and  spick-span  new  — 
'Tis  usual  here  that  number  to  present. 
A  dilettante  did  the  piece  invent, 
And  dilettanti  will  enact  it  too. 
Excuse  me,  gentlemen;  to  me's  assign 'd, 
As  dilettante  to  uplift  the  curtain. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  on  the  Blocksberg  I'm  rejoiced  to  find, 

That  'tis  your  most  appropriate  sphere  is  certain. 


FAUST -PART  I  405 

WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S  DREAM;  OR,  OBERON  AND 

TITANIA'S  GOLDEN  WEDDING-FEAST 

INTERMEZZO 

THEATRE 

MANAGER 

Vales,  where  mists  still  shift  and  play, 

To  ancient  hill  succeeding, — 
These  our  scenes;  —  so  we,  today, 

May  rest,  brave  sons  of  Mieding. 

HERALD 

That  the  marriage  golden  be, 

Must  fifty  years  be  ended ; 
More  dear  this  feast  of  gold  to  me, 

Contention  now  suspended. 

OBERON 
Spirits,  if  present,  grace  the  scene, 

And  if  with  me  united, 
Then  gratulate  the  king  and  queen, 

Their  troth  thus  newly  plighted! 

PUCK 
Puck  draws  near  and  wheels  about, 

In  mazy  circles  dancing! 
Hundreds  swell  his  joyous  shout, 

Behind  him  still  advancing. 

ARIEL, 
Ariel  wakes  his  dainty  air, 

His  lyre  celestial  stringing. — 
Fools  he  lureth,  and  the  fair, 

With  his  celestial  singing. 

OBERON 
Wedded  ones,  would  ye  agree, 

We  court  your  imitation: 
Would  ye  fondly  love  as  we, 

We  counsel  separation. 


406  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

TITANIA 

If  husband  scold  and  wife  retort, 
Then  bear  them  far  asunder; 

Her  to  the  burning  south  transport, 
And  him  the  North  Pole  under. 

THE  WHOLE  ORCHESTRA   (fortissimo) 

Flies  and  midges  all  unite 
With  frog  and  chirping  cricket, 

Our  orchestra  throughout  the  night, 
Resounding  in  the  thicket! 

(Solo) 
Yonder  doth  the  bagpipe  come! 

Its  sack  an  airy  bubble. 
Schnick,  schnick,  schnack,  with  nasal  hum, 

Its  notes  it  doth  redouble. 

EMBRYO  SPIRIT 

Spider's  foot  and  midge's  wing, 
A  toad  in  form  and  feature; 

Together  verses  it  can  string, 
Though  scarce  a  living  creature. 

A  LITTLE  PAIR 

Tiny  step  and  lofty  bound, 
Through  dew  and  exhalation; 

Ye  trip  it  deftly  on  the  ground, 
But  gain  no  elevation. 

INQUISITIVE  TRAVELLER 

Can  I  indeed  believe  my  eyes? 

Is't  not  mere  masquerading? 
What!     Oberon  in  beauteous  guise, 

Among  the  groups  parading! 

ORTHODOX 
No  claws,  no  tail  to  whisk  about, 

To  fright  us  at  our  revel;  — 
Yet  like  the  gods  of  Greece,  no  doubt, 

He  too's  a  genuine  devil. 


FAUST  — PAET  I  407 

NORTHERN  ARTIST 

These  that  I'm  hitting  off  today- 
Are  sketches  unpretending; 

Toward  Italy  without  delay, 
My  steps  I  think  of  bending. 

PURIST 
Alas !  ill-fortune  leads  me  here, 

Where  riot  still  grows  louder; 
And  'mong  the  witches  gathered  here, 

But  two  alone  wear  powder ! 

YOUNG  WITCH 

Your  powder  and  your  petticoat, 
Suit  hags,  there's  no  gainsaying; 

Hence  I  sit  fearless  on  my  goat, 
My  naked  charms  displaying. 

MATRON 
We're  too  well-bred  to  squabble  here, 

Or  insult  back  to  render; 
But  may  you  wither  soon,  my  dear, 

Although  so  young  and  tender. 

LEADER  OF  THE  BAND 

Nose  of  fly  and  gnat's  proboscis, 

Throng  not  the  naked  beauty! 
Progs  and  crickets  in  the  mosses, 

Keep  time  and  do  your  duty! 

WEATHERCOCK  (toward  one  side) 
What  charming  company  I  view 

Together  here  collected ! 
Gay  bachelors,  a  hopeful  crew, 

And  brides  so  unaffected! 

WEATHERCOCK  (toward  the  other  side) 
Unless  indeed  the  yawning  ground 

Should  open  to  receive  them, 
From  this  vile  crew,  with  sudden  bound, 

To  Hell  I'd  jump  and  leave  them. 


408  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

XENIEN 

With  small  sharp  shears,  in  insect  guise, 

Behold  us  at  your  revel ! 
That  we  may  tender,  filial-wise, 

Our  homage  to  the  devil. 

HENNINGS 

Look  now  at  yonder  eager  crew, 
How  naively  they're  jesting! 

That  they  have  tender  hearts  and  true, 
They  stoutly  keep  protesting ! 

MUSAGET 
Oneself  amid  this  witchery 

How  pleasantly  one  loses ; 
For  witches  easier  are  to  me 

To  govern  than  the  Muses! 

CI-DEVANT  GENIUS  OF  THE  AGE 

With  proper  folks  when  we  appear, 
No  one  can  then  surpass  us! 

Keep  close,  wide  is  the  Blocksberg  here 
As  Germany's  Parnassus. 

INQUISITIVE   TRAVELLER 

How  name  ye  that  stiff  formal  man, 
Who  strides  with  lofty  paces? 

He  tracks  the  game  where'er  he  can, 
"  He  scents  the  Jesuits'  traces." 

CRANE 
Where  waters  troubled  are  or  clear, 

To  fish  I  am  delighted; 
Thus  pious  gentlemen  appear 

With  devils  here  united. 

WORLDLING 

By  pious  people,  it  is  true, 

No  medium  is  rejected; 
Conventicles,  and  not  a  few, 

On  Blocksberg  are  erected. 


FAUST  — PAKTI  409 

DANCEB 

Another  chorus  now  succeeds, 

Far  off  the  drums  are  beating. 
Be  still !    The  bitterns  'mong  the  reeds 

Their  one  note  are  repeating. 

DANCING   MASTEB 

Each  twirls  about  and  never  stops, 

And  as  he  can  he  fareth. 
The  crooked  leaps,  the  clumsy  hops, 

Nor  for  appearance  careth. 

FIDDLER 

To  take  each  other's  life,  I  trow, 

Would  cordially  delight  them ! 
As  Orpheus'  lyre  the  beasts,  so  now 

The  bagpipe  doth  unite  them. 

DOGMATIST 

My  views,  in  spite  of  doubt  and  sneer, 

I  hold  with  stout  persistence, 
Inferring  from  the  devils  here, 

The  evil  one's  existence. 

IDEALIST 
My  every  sense  rules  Phantasy 

With  sway  quite  too  potential; 
Sure  I'm  demented  if  the  1 

Alone  is  the  essential. 

BEALIST 

This  entity's  a  dreadful  bore, 

And  cannot  choose  but  vex  me; 
The  ground  beneath  me  ne'er  before 

Thus  totter 'd  to  perplex  me. 

SUPEBNATURALIST 

Well  pleased  assembled  here  I  view 

Of  spirits  this  profusion ; 
From  devils,  touching  angels  too, 

I  gather  some  conclusion. 


410  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

SCEPTIC 

The  ignis  fatuus  they  track  out, 
And  think  they're  near  the  treasure. 

Devil  alliterates  with  doubt, 
Here  I  abide  with  pleasure. 

LEADER  OF   THE  BAND 

Frog  and  cricket  in  the  mosses, — 
Confound  your  gasconading ! 

Nose  of  fly  and  gnat's  proboscis;  — 
Most  tuneful  serenading ! 

THE    KNOWING    ONES 

Sans  souci,  so  this  host  we  greet, 
Their  jovial  humor  showing; 

There's  now  no  walking  on  our  feet, 
So  on  our  heads  we're  going. 

THE   AWKWARD   ONES 

In  seasons  past  we  snatch 'd,  'tis  true, 
Some  tit-bits  by  our  cunning; 

Our  shoes,  alas,  are  now  danced  through, 
On  our  bare  soles  we're  running. 

WILL-O  '-THE- WISPS 

From  marshy  bogs  we  sprang  to  light, 
Yet  here  behold  us  dancing; 

The  gayest  gallants  of  the  night, 
In  glitt'ring  rows  advancing. 

SHOOTING  STAR 

With  rapid  motion  from  on  high, 

I  shot  in  starry  splendor; 
Now  prostrate  on  the  grass  I  lie ;  — 

Who  aid  will  kindly  render? 

THE  MASSIVE  ONES 

Room !  wheel  round  I    They  're  coming !  lo ! 

Down  sink  the  bending  grasses. 
Though  spirits,  yet  their  limbs,  we  know, 

Are  huge  substantial  masses. 


FAUST  — PAKTI  411 

PUCK 

Don't  stamp  so  heavily,  I  pray; 

Like  elephants  you're  treading! 
And  'mong  the  elves  be  Puck  today, 

The  stoutest  at  the  wedding! 

AEIEL 
If  nature  boon,  or  subtle  sprite, 

Endow  your  soul  with  pinions ;  — 
Then  follow  to  yon  rosy  height, 

Through  ether's  calm  dominions! 

OBCHESTRA  (pianissimo) 
Drifting  cloud  and  misty  wreathes 

Are  fill'd  with  light  elysian; 
O'er  reed  and  leaf  the  zephyr  breathes  — 

So  fades  the  fairy  vision ! 

A  GLOOMY  DAY.    A  PLAIN 
FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES 

FAUST 

In  misery!  despairing!  long  wandering  pitifully  on  the 
face  of  the  earth  and  now  imprisoned !  This  gentle  hapless 
creature,  immured  in  the  dungeon  as  a  malefactor  and 
reserved  for  horrid  tortures!  That  it  should  come  to 
this!  To  this!  —  Perfidious,  worthless  spirit,  and  this  thou 
hast  concealed  from  me!  —  Stand!  ay,  stand!  roll  in  mali- 
cious rage  thy  fiendish  eyes!  Stand  and  brave  me  with 
thine  insupportable  presence!  Imprisoned!  In  hopeless 
misery!  Delivered  over  to  the  power  of  evil  spirits  Lnd 
the  judgment  of  unpi tying  humanity!  —  And  me,  the  while, 
thou  wert  lulling  with  tasteless  dissipations,  concealing 
from  me  her  growing  anguish,  and  leaving  her  to  perish 
without  help ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

She  is  not  the  first. 

FAUST 

Hound!     Execrable  monster!  —  Back  with  him,  oh  thou 


412  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

infinite  spirit!  back  with  the  reptile  into  his  dog's  shape, 
in  which  it  was  his  wont  to  scamper  before  me  at  eventide, 
to  roll  before  the  feet  of  the  harmless  wanderer,  and  to 
fasten  on  his  shoulders  when  he  fell!  Change  him  again 
into  his  favorite  shape,  that  he  may  crouch  on  his  belly 
before  me  in  the  dust,  whilst  I  spurn  him  with  my  foot,  the 
reprobate!  —  Not  the  first!  —  Woe!  Woe!  By  no  human 
soul  is  it  conceivable,  that  more  than  one  human  creature 
has  ever  sunk  into  a  depth  of  wretchedness  like  this,  or  that 
the  first  in  her  writhing  death-agony  should  not  have  atoned 
in  the  sight  of  all-pardoning  Heaven  for  the  guilt  of  all  the 
rest !  The  misery  of  this  one  pierces  me  to  the  very  mar- 
row, and  harrows  up  my  soul;  thou  art  grinning  calmly 
over  the  doom  of  thousands ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  we  are  once  again  at  our  wit's  end,  just  where  the 
reason  of  you  mortals  snaps !  Why  dost  thou  seek  our 
fellowship,  if  thou  canst  not  go  through  with  it?  Wilt  fly, 
and  art  not  proof  against  dizziness?  Did  we  force  our- 
selves on  thee,  or  thou  on  us? 

FAITST 

Cease  thus  to  gnash  thy  ravenous  fangs  at  me !  I  loathe 
thee!  —  Great  and  glorious  spirit,  thou  who  didst  vouch- 
safe to  reveal  thyself  unto  me,  thou  who  dost  know  my 
very  heart  and  soul,  why  hast  thou  linked  me  with  this  base 
associate,  who  feeds  on  mischief  and  revels  in  destruction  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Hast  done? 

FAUST 

Save  her !  —  or  woe  to  thee !  The  direst  of  curses  on  thee 
for  thousands  of  years ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  cannot  loose  the  bands  of  the  avenger,  nor  withdraw 
his  bolts. —  Save  her!  —  Who  was  it  plunged  her  into  per- 
dition ?  I  or  thou  ? 

FAUST  (looks  wildly  around) 


FAUST  — PART  I  413 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Would  'st  grasp  the  thunder  ?  Well  for  you,  poor  mortals, 
that  'tis  not  yours  to  wield !  To  smite  to  atoms  the  being, 
however  innocent,  who  obstructs  his  path,  such  is  the 
tyrant's  fashion  of  relieving  himself  in  difficulties! 

FAUST 
Convey  me  thither !    She  shall  be  free ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  the  danger  to  which  thou  dost  expose  thyself? 
Know,  the  guilt  of  blood,  shed  by  thy  hand,  lies  yet  upon 
the  town.  Over  the  place  where  fell  the  murdered  one, 
avenging  spirits  hover  and  watch  for  the  returning 
murderer. 

FAUST 

This  too  from  thee?  The  death  and  downfall  of  a  world 
be  on  thee,  monster!  Conduct  me  thither,  I  say  and  set 
her  free! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  will  conduct  thee.  And  what  I  can  do, —  hear!  Have 
I  all  power  in  heaven  and  upon  earth?  I'll  cloud  the  senses 
of  the  warder, —  do  thou  possess  thyself  of  the  keys  and 
lead  her  forth  with  human  hand !  I  will  keep  watch !  The 
magic  steeds  are  waiting,  I  bear  thee  off.  Thus  much  is 
in  my  power. 

FAUST 

Up  and  away! 

NIGHT.     OPEN  COUNTRY 

FAUST.    MEPHISTOPHELES 
(Rushing  along  on  black  horses) 

FAUST 
What  weave  they  yonder  round  the  Raven  stone? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  know  not  what  they  shape  and  brew. 


414  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

They're  soaring,  swooping,  bending,  stooping. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  witches'  pack. 

FAUST 

They  charm,  they  strew. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

On!    On! 

DUNGEON 
FAUST  (with  a  bunch  of  keys  and  a  lamp  before  a  small  iron 

door) 

A  fear  unwonted  o  'er  my  spirit  falls ; 
Man 's  concentrated  woe  o  'erwhelms  me  here ! 
She  dwells  immur'd  within  these  dripping  walls; 
Her  only  trespass  a  delusion  dear ! 
Thou  lingerest  at  the  fatal  door? 
Thou  dread 'st  to  see  her  face  once  more? 
On!    While  thou  dalliest,  draws  her  death-hour  near. 

[He  seizes  the  lock.   Singing  ivithin.] 
My  mother,  the  harlot, 
She  took  me  and  slew ! 
My  father,  the  scoundrel, 
Hath  eaten  me  too  I 
My  sweet  little  sister 
Hath  all  my  bones  laid, 
Where  soft  breezes  whisper 
All  in  the  cool  shade ! 

Then  became  I  a  wood-bird,  and  sang  on  the  spray, 
Fly  away !  little  bird,  fly  away !  fly  away ! 

FAUST  (opening  the  lock) 
Ah!  she  forebodes  not  that  her  lover's  near, 
The  clanking  chains,  the  rustling  straw,  to  hear. 

[He  enters.] 

MARGARET  (hiding  her  face  in  the  bed  of  straw) 
Woe !  woe !  they  come !  oh  bitter  'tis  to  die ! 


FAUST  — PAETI  415 

FAUST  (softly) 
Hush !  hush !  be  still !  I  come  to  set  thee  free. 

MARGARET  (throwing  herself  at  his  feet) 
If  thou  art  human,  feel  my  misery ! 

FAUST 
Thou  wilt  awake  the  jailer  with  thy  cry ! 

[He  grasps  the  chains  to  unlock  them.] 

MARGARET  (on  her  knees) 
Who,  headsman,  unto  thee  this  power 
O'er  me  could  give? 
Thou  com  'st  for  me  at  midnight-hour. 
Be  merciful,  and  let  me  live ! 

Is  morrow's  dawn  not  time  enough?          ro, 

[She  stands  up.] 

I'm  still  so  young,  so  young — 

And  must  so  early  die! 

Fair  was  I  too,  and  that  was  my  undoing. 

My  love  is  now  afar,  he  then  was  nigh; 

Torn  lies  the  garland,  the  fair  blossoms  strew 'd. 

Nay,  seize  me  not  with  hand  so  rude ! 

Spare  me !    What  harm  have  I  e  'er  done  to  thee  ? 

Oh  let  me  not  in  vain  implore ! 

I  ne  'er  have  seen  thee  in  my  life  before ! 

FAUST 

Can  I  endure  this  bitter  agony? 

MARGARET 

I  now  am  at  thy  mercy  quite. 

Let  me  my  babe  but  suckle  once  again ! 

I  fondled  it  the  li ve-long  night ; 

They  took  it  from  me  but  to  give  me  pain, 

And  now,  they  say  that  I  my  child  have  slain. 

Gladness  I  ne'er  again  shall  know. 

Then    they    sing    songs    about    me, — 'tis    wicked    of    the 

throng — 

An  ancient  ballad  endeth  so; 
Who  bade  them  thus  apply  the  song? 


416  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST  (throwing  himself  on  the  ground) 
A  lover  at  thy  feet  bends  low, 
To  loose  the  bonds  of  wretchedness  and  woe. 

MARGARET  (throws  herself  beside  him) 
Oh,  let  us  kneel  and  move  the  saints  by  prayer  1 
Look!  look!  yon  stairs  below, 
Under  the  threshold  there, 
Hell's  flames  are  all  aglow! 
Beneath  the  floor, 
With  hideous  noise, 
The  devils  roar! 

FAUST  (aloud) 
Gretchen !    Gretchen ! 

MARGARET  (listening) 
That  was  my  lov  'd  one 's  voice ! 

[She  springs  up,  the  chains  fall  off.] 
Where  is  he  ?    I  heard  him  calling  me. 
Free  am  I !    There 's  none  shall  hinder  me. 
To  his  neck  will  I  fly, 
On  his  bosom  will  lie ! 

Gretchen,  he  called !  —  On  yon  threshold  he  stood ; 
Amidst  all  the  howling  of  hell's  fiery  flood, 
The  scoff  and  the  scorn  of  its  devilish  crew, 
The  tones  of  his  voice,  sweet  and  loving,  I  knew. 

FAUST 

>Tis  I! 

MARGARET 

'Tis  thou !    0  say  so  once  again ! 

[embracing  him.] 

'Tis  he!     'Tis  he!  where 's  now  the  torturing  pain1? 
Where  are  the  fetters?  where  the  dungeon's  gloom? 
'Tis  thou !    To  save  me  thou  art  come ! 
And  I  am  sav'd!  — 
Already  now  the  street  I  see 
Where  the  first  time  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  thee. 
There  to  the  pleasant  garden  shade, 
Where  I  and  Martha  for  thy  coming  stay'd. 


FAUST  — PAKT  I  417 

FAUST  (endeavoring  to  lead  her  away) 
Come!  come  away! 

MARGARET 

Oh  do  not  haste ! 
I  love  to  linger  where  thou  stayest.  [caressing  him.] 

FAUST 

Ah  haste !    For  if  thou  still  delayest, 
Our  lingering  we  shall  both  deplore. 

MARGARET 

How,  dearest?  canst  thou  kiss  no  more! 

So  short  a  time  away  from  me,  and  yet, 

To  kiss  thou  couldst  so  soon  forget ! 

Why  on  thy  neck  so  anxious  do  I  feel  — 

When  formerly  a  perfect  heaven  of  bliss 

From  thy  dear  looks  and  words  would  o'er  me  steal t 

As  thou  wouldst  stifle  me  thou  then  didst  kiss !  — 

Kiss  me! 

Or  I'll  kiss  thee!  [She  embraces  him.] 

Woe!  woe!    Thy  lips  are  cold, — 

Are  dumb! 

Thy  love  where  hast  thou  left! 

Who  hath  me  of  thy  love  bereft! 

[She  turns  away  from  him.] 

FAUST 

Come !    Follow  me,  my  dearest  love,  be  bold ! 
I'll  cherish  thee  with  ardor  thousand-fold; 
I  but  entreat  thee  now  to  follow  me ! 

MARGARET  (turning  toward  him) 
And  art  thou  he!  and  art  thou  really  he? 

FAUST 
'Tis  I!    Oh  come  I 

MARGARET 

Thou  wilt  strike  off  my  chain, 
And  thou  wilt  take  me  to  thine  arms  again. 
How  comes  it  that  thou  dost  not  shrink  from  met  — 
And  dost  thou  know,  love,  whom  thou  wouldst  set  free? 

VOL.  1  —  27 


418  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

FAUST 

Come !  come !  already  night  begins  to  wane. 

MARGARET 

I  sent  my  mother  to  her  grave, 

I  drown 'd  my  child  beneath  the  wave. 

Was  it  not  given  to  thee  and  me  —  thee  too? 

'Tis  thou  thyself !    I  scarce  believe  it  yet. 

Give  me  thy  hand !    It  is  no  dream !     'Tis  true ! 

Thine  own  dear  hand!  —  But  how  is  this?     'Tis  wet! 

Quick,  wipe  it  off !    Meseems  that  yet 

There's  blood  thereon. 

Ah  God !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Put  up  thy  sword, 

I  beg  of  thee ! 

FAUST 

Oh,  dearest,  let  the  past  forgotten  be ! 
Death  is  in  every  word. 

MARGARET 

No,  thou  must  linger  here  in  sorrow! 

The  graves  I  will  describe  to  thee, 

And  thou  to  them  must  see 

Tomorrow : 

The  best  place  give  to  my  mother, 

Close  at  her  side  my  brother, 

Me  at  some  distance  lay — 

But  not  too  far  away ! 

And  the  little  one  place  on  my  right  breast. 

Nobody  else  will  near  me  lie ! 

To  nestle  beside  thee  so  lovingly, 

That  was  a  rapture,  gracious  and  sweet! 

A  rapture  I  never  again  shall  prove ; 

Methinks  I  would  force  myself  on  thee,  love, 

And  thou  dost  spurn  me,  and  back  retreat — 

Yet  'tis  thyself,  thy  fond  kind  looks  I  see. 

FAUST 
If  thou  dost  feel  'tis  I,  then  come  with  me ! 


FAUST  — PAETI  419 

MARGARET 

What,  there?  without? 

FAUST 

Yes,  forth  in  the  free  air. 

MARGARET 

Ay,  if  the  grave's  without,— If  death  lurk  there  I 
Hence  to  the  everlasting  resting-place, 
And  not  one  step  beyond!  —  Thou'rt  leaving  me? 
Oh  Henry !  would  that  I  could  go  with  thee ! 

FAUST 
Thou  canst !    But  will  it !    Open  stands  the  door. 

MARGARET 

I  dare  not  go!    I've  naught  to  hope  for  more. 
What  boots  it  to  escape?    They  lurk  for  me! 
'Tis  wretched  to  beg,  as  I  must  do, 
And  with  an  evil  conscience  thereto! 
'Tis  wretched,  in  foreign  lands  to  stray; 
And  me  they  will  catch,  do  what  I  may ! 

FAUST 
With  thee  will  I  abide. 

MARGARET 

Quick !    Quick ! 

Save  thy  poor  child! 

Keep  to  the  path 

The  brook  along, 

Over  the  bridge 

To  the  wood  beyond, 

To  the  left,  where  the  plank  is, 

In  the  pond. 

Seize  it  at  once! 

It  fain  would  rise, 

It  struggles  still! 

Save  it.    Oh  save! 

FAUST 

Dear  Gretchen,  more  collected  be ! 
One  little  step,  and  thou  art  free ! 


420  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MABGABET 

Were  we  but  only  past  the  hill! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone  — 

My  brain,  alas,  is  cold  with  dread !  — 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone, 

And  to  and  fro  she  shakes  her  head; 

She  winks  not,  she  nods  not,  her  head  it  droops  sore ; 

She  slept  so  long,  she  waked  no  more; 

She  slept,  that  we  might  taste  of  bliss : 

Ah  I  those  were  happy  times,  I  wis ! 

FAUST 

Since  here  avails  nor  argument  nor  prayer, 
Thee  hence  by  force  I  needs  must  bear. 

MABGABET 

Loose  me !    I  will  not  suffer  violence ! 
With  murderous  hand  hold  not  so  fast ! 
I  have  done  all  to  please  thee  in  the  past! 

FAUST 

Day  dawns  I    My  love !    My  love ! 

MABGABET 

Yes !  day  draws  near, 

The  day  of  judgment  too  will  soon  appear ! 
It  should  have  been  my  bridal!    No  one  tell, 
That  thy  poor  Gretchen  thou  hast  known  too  well. 
Woe  to  my  garland ! 
Its  bloom  is  o'er! 
Though  not  at  the  dance  — 
We  shall  meet  once  more. 
The  crowd  doth  gather,  in  silence  it  rolls ; 
The  squares,  the  streets, 
Scarce  hold  the  throng. 
The  staff  is  broken, —  the  death-bell  tolls, — 
They  bind  and  seize  me!    I'm  hurried  along, 
To  the  seat  of  blood  already  I'm  bound! 
Quivers  each  neck  as  the  naked  steel 
Quivers  on  mine  the  blow  to  deal  — 
The  silence  of  the  grave  now  broods  around ! 


FAUST  —  PAKTI  421 

FAUST 

Would  I  had  ne  'er  been  born ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (appears  without) 
Up!  or  you're  lost. 
Vain  hesitation!    Babbling,  quaking! 
My  steeds  are  shivering, 
Morn  is  breaking. 

MABGARET 

What  from  the  floor  ascendeth  like  a  ghost? 
'Tis  he !     Tis  he !    Him  from  my  presence  chase ! 
What  would  he  in  this  holy  place? 
It  is  for  me  he  cometh ! 

FAUST 
Thou  shalt  live! 

MABGARET 

Judgment  of  God!    To  thee  my  soul  I  give! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to  FAUST) 

Come,  come !    With  her  I  '11  else  abandon  thee ! 

MABGARET 

Father,  I'm  thine!    Do  thou  deliver  me! 
Ye  angels !    Ye  angelic  hosts !  descend, 
Encamp  around  to  guard  me  and  defend!  — 
Henry!    I  shudder  now  to  look  on  thee! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

She  now  is  judged! 

VOICES  (from  above) 
Is  saved! 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  FAUST) 

Come  thou  with  me ! 

[vanishes  with  FAUST.] 

VOICE  (from  within,  dying  away) 
Henry !    Henry ! 

END  OF  PART  I. 


FAUST  — SELECTIONS  FROM  PART  II  (1832) 
ACT  THE  FIRST 

A  PLEASING  LANDSCAPE 

FAUST,  reclining  upon  flowery  turf,  restless,  seeking  sleep 

TWILIGHT 

Circle  of  spirits,  hovering,  flit  around;  — 
Graceful,  tiny  forms. 

ABIEL 
Song,  accompanied  by  JEoiian  harps 

WHEN,  in  vernal  showers  descending, 

Blossoms  gently  veil  the  earth, 

When  the  fields'  green  wealth,  up-tending, 

Gleams  on  all  of  mortal  birth; 

Tiny  elves,  where  help  availeth, 

Large  of  heart,  there  fly  apace; 

Pity  they  whom  grief  assaileth, 

Be  he  holy,  be  he  base. 

Ye  round  this  head  on  airy  wing  careering, 
Attend,  in  noble  Elfin  guise  appearing ; 
Assuage  the  cruel  strife  that  rends  his  heart, 
The  burning  shaft  remove  of  keen  remorse, 
From  rankling  horror  cleanse  his  inmost  part : 
Four  are  the  pauses  of  the  nightly  course ; 
Them,  without  rest,  fill  up  with  kindly  art. 
And  first  his  head  upon  cool  pillow  lay, 
Then  bathe  ye  him  in  dew  from  Lethe's  stream; 
His  limbs,  cramp-stiff  en 'd,  will  more  freely  play, 
If  sleep-refreshed  he  wait  morn's  wakening  beam. 

Perform  the  noblest  Elfin-rite, 
Eestore  ye  him  to  the  holy  light! 

[422] 


FAUST  —  PART  II  423 

CHORUS  (singly,  two  or  more,  alternately  and  together) 
Softly  when  warm  gales  are  stealing 
O'er  the  green-environed  ground, 
Twilight  sheddeth  all-concealing 
Mists  and  balmy  odors  round: 
Whispers  low  sweet  peace  to  mortals, 
Rocks  the  heart  to  childlike  rest, 
And  of  day-light  shuts  the  portals 
To  these  eyes,  with  care  oppressed. 
Night  hath  now  descended  darkling, 
Holy  star  is  linked  to  star; 
Sovereign  fires,  or  faintly  sparkling, 
Glitter  near  and  shine  afar; 
Glitter  here  lake-mirror 'd,  yonder 
Shine  adown  the  clear  night  sky; 
Sealing  bliss  of  perfect  slumber, 
Reigns  the  moon's  full  majesty. 

Now  the  hours  are  cancelled;  sorrow, 
Happiness,  have  passed  away: 
Whole  thou  shalt  be  on  the  morrow ! 
Feel  it !    Trust  the  new-born  day ! 
Swell  the  hills,  green  grow  the  valleys, 
In  the  dusk  ere  breaks  the  morn ; 
And  in  silvery  wavelets  dallies, 
With  the  wind,  the  ripening  corn. 
Cherish  hope,  let  naught  appall  thee ! 
Mark  the  East,  with  splendor  dyed! 
Slight  the  fetters  that  enthrall  thee ; 
Fling  the  shell  of  sleep  aside ! 
Gird  thee  for  the  high  endeavor ; 
Shun  the  crowd's  ignoble  ease! 
Fails  the  noble  spirit  never, 
Wise  to  think,  and  prompt  to  seize. 
[A  tremendous  tumult  announces  the  uprising  of  the  Sun.} 

ABIEL 

Hark,  the  horal  tempest  nears, 


424  THE  GEKMAN  CLASSICS 

Sounding  but  for  spirit  ears, 
Lo !  the  new-born  day  appears ; 
Clang  the  rocky  portals,  climb 
Phrebus'  wheels  with  thund'rous  chime: 
Breaks  with  tuneful  noise  the  light! 
Blare  of  trumpet,  clarion  sounding, 
Eye-sight  dazing,  ear  astounding! 
Hear  not  the  unheard;  take  flight! 
Into  petaled  blossoms  glide 
Deeper,  deeper,  still  to  bide, 
In  the  clefts,  'neath  thickets!  ye, 
If  it  strike  you,  deaf  will  be. 

FAUST 

Life's  pulses  reawakened  freshly  bound, 
The  mild  ethereal  twilight  fain  to  greet. 
Thou,  Earth,  this  night  wast  also  constant  found, 
And,  newly-quickened,  breathing  at  my  feet, 
Beginnest  now  to  gird  me  with  delight; 
A  strong  resolve  dost  rouse,  with  noble  heat 
Aye  to  press  on  to  being's  sovereign  height. 
The  world  in  glimmering  dawn  still  folded  lies; 
With  thousand-voiced  life  the  woods  resound; 
Mist-wreaths  the  valley  shroud ;  yet  from  the  skies 
Sinks  heaven 's  clear  radiance  to  the  depths  profound ; 
And  bough  and  branch  from  dewy  chasms  rise, 
Where  they  had  drooped  erewhile  in  slumber  furled; 
Earth  is  enamelled  with  unnumber'd  dyes, 
Leaflet  and  flower  with  dew-drops  are  impearled; 
Around  me  everywhere  is  paradise. 

Gaze  now  aloft !    Each  mountain's  giant  height 

The  solemn  hour  announces,  herald-wise ; 

They  early  may  enjoy  the  eternal  light, 

To  us  below  which  later  finds  its  way. 

Now  are  the  Alpine  slopes  and  valleys  dight 

With  the  clear  radiance  of  the  new-born  day, 

Which,  downward,  step  by  step,  steals  on  apace. — 


FAUST  — PAKT  II  425 

It  blazes  forth, —  and,  blinded  by  the  ray, 

With  aching  eyes,  alas !  I  veil  my  face. 

So  when  a  hope,  the  heart  hath  long  held  fast, 

Trustful,  still  striving  toward  its  highest  goal, 

Fulfilment's  portals  open  finds  at  last;  — 

Sudden  from  those  eternal  depths  doth  roll 

An  over-powering  flame;— we  stand  aghast! 

The  torch  of  li f e  to  kindle  we  were  fain ;  — 

A  fire-sea, — what  a  fire!  —  doth  round  us  close; 

Love  is  it?    Is  it  hate?  with  joy  and  pain, 

In  alternation  vast,  that  round  us  glows? 

So  that  to  earth  we  turn  our  wistful  gaze, 

In  childhood's  veil  to  shroud  us  once  again! 

So  let  the  sun  behind  me  pour  its  rays ! 

The  cataract,  through  rocky  cleft  that  roars, 

I  view,  with  growing  rapture  and  amaze. 

From  fall  to  fall,  with  eddying  shock,  it  pours, 

In  thousand  torrents  to  the  depths  below, 

Aloft  in  air  up-tossing  showers  of  spray. 

But  see,  in  splendor  bursting  from  the  storm, 

Arches  itself  the  many-colored  bow, 

And  ever-changeful,  yet  continuous  form, 

Now  drawn  distinctly,  melting  now  away, 

Diffusing  dewy  coolness  all  around! 

Man's  efforts  there  are  glassed,  his  toil  and  strife; 

Reflect,  more  true  the  emblem  will  be  found : 

This  bright  reflected  glory  pictures  life! 

IMPERIAL    PALACE.      THRONE-ROOM 

Council  of  State,  in  expectation  of  the  EMPEROR 

TRUMPETS 

Enter  courtiers  of  every  grade,  splendidly  attired.  The 
Emperor  ascends  the  throne;  to  the  right  the 
ASTROLOGER. 

EMPEROR 

I  greet  you,  trusty  friends  and  dear, 
Assembled  thus  from  far  and  wide!  — 


426  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

I  see  the  wise  man  at  my  side, 
But  wherefore  is  the  fool  not  here? 

PAGE 

Entangled  in  thy  mantle 's  flow. 
He  tripped  upon  the  stair  below; 
The  mass  of  fat  they  bare  away, 
If  dead  or  drunken — who  can  say? 

SECOND  PAGE 

Forthwith  another  comes  apace, 
With  wondrous  speed  to  take  his  place ; 
Costly,  yet  so  grotesque  his  gear, 
All  start  amazed  as  he  draws  near. 
Crosswise  the  guards  before  his  face, 
Entrance  to  bar,  their  halberds  hold  — 
Yet  there  he  is,  the  fool  so  bold. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (kneeling  before  the  throne) 
What  is  accursed  and  gladly  hailed  f 
What  is  desired  and  chased  away? 
What  is  upbraided  and  assailed? 
What  wins  protection  every  day? 
Whom  darest  thou  not  summon  here  ? 
Whose  name  doth  plaudits  still  command? 
What  to  thy  throne  now  draweth  near? 
What  from  this  place  itself  hath  banned  ? 

EMPEROB 

For  this  time  thou  thy  words  may'st  spare! 
This  is  no  place  for  riddles,  friend; 
They  are  these  gentlemen 's  affair. — 
Solve  them!  an  ear  I'll  gladly  lend. 
My  old  fool's  gone,  far,  far  away,  I  fear; 
Take  thou  his  place,  come,  stand  beside  me  here ! 
[MEPHISTOPHELES    ascends    and    places    himself    at    the 
EMPEROR'S  left.] 

Murmur  of  the  Crowd 
Here's  a  new  fool  —  for  plague  anew! 
Whence  cometh  he!  —  How  passed  he  through? 


FAUST  — PART  II  427 

The  old  one  fell  — he  squander  'd  hath.— 
He  was  a  tub  —  now  'tis  a  lath. — 

EMPEROR 

So  now,  my  friends,  beloved  and  leal, 

Be  welcome  all,  from  near  and  far ! 

Ye  meet  'neath  an  auspicious  star ; 

For  us  above  are  written  joy  and  weal 

But  tell  me  wherefore,  on  this  day, 

When  we  all  care  would  cast  away, 

And  don  the  masker's  quaint  array, 

And  naught  desire  but  to  enjoy, 

Should  we  with  state  affairs  ourselves  annoy? 

But  if  ye  think  it  so  must  be  indeed, 

Why,  well  and  good,  let  us  forthwith  proceed ! 

CHANCELLOR 

The  highest  virtue  circles  halo-wise 

Our  Cesar's  brow;  virtue,  which  from  the  throne, 

He  validly  can  exercise  alone: 

Justice! — What  all  men  love  and  prize, 

What  all  demand,  desire,  and  sorely  want, 

It  lies  with  him,  this  to  the  folk  to  grant. 

But  ah !  what  help  can  intellect  command, 

Goodness  of  heart,  or  willingness  of  hand, 

When  fever  saps  the  state  with  deadly  power, 

And  mischief  breedeth  mischief,  hour  by  hour! 

To  him  who  downward  from  this  height  supreme 

Views  the  wide  realm,  'tis  like  a  troubled  dream, 

Where  the  deformed  deformity  o'ersways, 

Where  lawlessness,  through  law,  the  tyrant  plays, 

And  error's  ample  world  itself  displays. 

One  steals  a  woman,  one  a  steer, 

Lights  from  the  altar,  chalice,  cross, 

Boasts  of  his  deed  full  many  a  year, 

Unscathed  in  body,  without  harm  or  loss. 

Now  to  the  hall  accusers  throng; 

On  cushioned  throne  the  judge  presides; 


428  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Surging  meanwhile  in  eddying  tides, 
Confusion  waxes  fierce  and  strong. 

He  may  exalt  in  crime  and  shame, 

Who  on  accomplices  depends; 

Guilty !  the  verdict  they  proclaim, 

When  Innocence  her  cause  defends. 

So  will  the  world  succumb  to  ill, 

And  what  is  worthy  perish  quite ; 

How  then  may  grow  the  sense  which  still 

Instructs  us  to  discern  the  right! 

E  'en  the  right-minded  man,  in  time, 

To  briber  and  to  flatterer  yields; 

The  judge,  who  cannot  punish  crime, 

Joins  with  the  culprit  whom  he  shields. — 

I've  painted  black,  yet  fain  had  been 

A  veil  to  draw  before  the  scene. 

*     Pause 

Measures  must  needs  be  taken;  when 
All  injure  or  are  injured,  then 
E'en  Majesty  becomes  a  prey. 

FIELD  MARSHAL 

In  these  wild  days  what  tumults  reign ! 
Each  smitten  is  and  smites  again, 
Deaf  to  command,  will  none  obey. 
The  burgher,  safe  behind  his  wall, 
Within  his  rocky  nest,  the  knight, 
Against  us  have  conspired,  and  all 
Firmly  to  hold  their  own  unite. 
Impatient  is  the  hireling  now, 
With  vehemence  he  claims  his  due ; 
And  did  we  owe  him  naught,  I  trow, 
Off  he  would  run,  nor  bid  adieu. 
Who  thwarts  what  fondly  all  expect, 
He  hath  disturbed  a  hornet's  nest; 
The  empire  which  they  should  protect, 
It  lieth  plundered  and  oppress  'd. 


FAUST  —  PAKT  n  429 

Their  furious  rage  may  none  restrain ; 

Already  half  the  world's  undone; 

Abroad  there  still  are  kings  who  reign— 

None  thinks  'tis  his  concern,  not  one.  * 

TREASURES 

Who  will  depend  upon  allies! 

For  us  their  promised  subsidies 

Like  conduit-water,  will  not  flow. 

Say,  Sire,  through  your  dominions  vast 

To  whom  hath  now  possession  passed! 

Some  upstart,  wheresoe'er  we  go, 

Keeps  house,  and  independent  reigns. 

We  must  look  on,  he  holds  his  own ; 

So  many  rights  away  we've  thrown, 

That  for  ourselves  no  right  remains. 

On  so-called  parties  in  the  state 

There's  no  reliance,  now-a-days; 

They  may  deal  out  or  blame  or  praise, 

Indifferent  are  love  and  hate. 

The  Ghibelline  as  well  as  Guelph 

Retire,  that  they  may  live  at  ease ! 

Who  helps  his  neighbor  now?     Himself 

Each  hath  enough  to  do  to  please. 

Barred  are  the  golden  gates ;  while  each 

Scrapes,  snatches,  gathers  all  within  his  reach — 

Empty,  meanwhile,  our  chest  remains. 

STEWARD 

What  worry  must  I,  also,  bear ! 

Our  aim  each  day  is  still  to  spare  — 

And  more  each  day  we  need ;  my  pains, 

Daily  renewed,  are  never  o'er. 

The  cooks  lack  nothing; — deer,  wild-boar, 

Stags,  hares,  fowls,  turkeys,  ducks  and  geese,— 

Tribute  in  kind,  sure  payment,  these 

Come  fairly  in,  and  none  complains. 

But  now  at  last  wine  fails ;  and  if  of  yore 

Up-piled  upon  the  cellar-floor, 


430  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Cask  rose  on  cask,  a  goodly  store, 

From  the  best  slopes  and  vintage;  now 

The  swilling  of  our  lords,  I  trow, 

Unceasing,  drains  the  very  lees. 

E'en  the  Town-council  must  give  out 

Its  liquor; — bowls  and  cups  they  seize, 

And  'neath  the  table  lies  the  drunken  rout. 

Now  must  I  pay,  whate  'er  betides ; 

Me  the  Jew  spares  not;  he  provides 

Anticipation-bonds  which  feed 

Each  year  on  that  which  must  succeed ; 

The  swine  are  never  fattened  now ; 

Pawned  is  the  pillow  or  the  bed, 

And  to  the  table  comes  fore-eaten  bread. 

EMPEEOB  (after  some  reflection,  to  MEPHISTOPHELES) 
Say,  fool,  another  grievance  knowest  thou? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I,  nowise.     On  this  circling  pomp  to  gaze, 

On  thee  and  thine !    There  can  reliance  fail 

Where  majesty  resistless  sways, 

And  ready  power  makes  foemen  quail? 

Where  loyal  will,  through  reason  strong, 

And  prowess,  manifold,  unite, 

What  could  together  join  for  wrong, 

For  darkness,  where  such  stars  give  light? 

Murmur  of  the  Crowd 
He  is  a  knave  —  he  comprehends  — 
He  lies — while  lying  serves  his  ends  — 
Full  well  I  know — what  lurks  behind  — 
What  next? — Some  scheme  is  in  the  wind!  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Where  is  not  something  wanting  here  on  earth  ? 
Here  this, —  there  that :  of  gold  is  here  the  dearth. 
It  cannot  from  the  floor  be  scrap 'd,  'tis  true; 
But  what  lies  deepest  wisdom  brings  to  view. 


FAUST  — PAKT  n  431 

In  mountain-veins,  walls  underground, 
Is  gold,  both  coined  and  uncoined,  to  be  found. 
And  if  ye  ask  me, —  bring  it  forth  who  can? 
Spirit-  and  nature-power  of  gifted  man. 

CHANCELLOR 

Nature  and  spirit — Christians  ne'er  should  hear 

Such  words,  with  peril  fraught  and  fear. 

These  words  doom  atheists  to  the  fire. 

Nature  is  sin,  spirit  is  devil ;  they, 

Between  them,  doubt  beget,  their  progeny, 

Hermaphrodite,  mis-shapen,  dire. 

Not  so  with  us!     Within  our  Caesar's  land 

Two  orders  have  arisen,  two  alone, 

Who  worthily  support  his  ancient  throne: 

Clergy  and  knights,  who  fearless  stand, 

Bulwarks  'gainst  every  storm,  and  they 

Take  church  and  state  as  their  'appropriate  pay. 

Through  lawless  men,  the  vulgar  herd 

To  opposition  have  of  late  been  stirred; 

The  heretics  these  are,  the  wizards,  who 

The  city  ruin  and  the  country  too. 

With  thy  bold  jests,  to  this  high  sphere, 

Such  miscreants  wilt  smuggle  in ; 

Hearts  reprobate  to  you  are  dear; 

They  to  the  fool  are  near  of  kin. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Herein  your  learned  men  I  recognize! 
What  you  touch  not,  miles  distant  from  you  lies; 
What  you  grasp  not,  is  naught  in  sooth  to  you ; 
What  you  count  not,  cannot,  you  deem,  be  true; 
What  you  weigh  not,  that  hath  for  you  no  weight; 
What  you  coin  not,  you're  sure  is  counterfeit. 

EMPEROE 

Therewith  our  needs  are  not  one  whit  the  less. 
What  meanest  thou  with  this  thy  Lent-address! 
I'm  tired  of  this  eternal  If  and  How. 
'Tis  gold  we  lack;  so  good,  procure  it  thou! 


432  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'll  furnish  more,  ay,  more  than  all  you  ask. 

Though  light  it  seems,  not  easy  is  the  task. 

There  lies  the  gold,  but  to  procure  it  thence, 

That  is  the  art :  who  knoweth  to  commence  ? 

Only  consider,  in  those  days  of  terror, 

When  human  floods  swamped  land  and  folk  together, 

How  every  one,  how  great  soe'er  his  fear, 

All  that  he  treasured  most,  hid  there  or  here ; 

So  was  it  'neath  the  mighty  Roman's  sway, 

So  on  till  yesterday,  ay,  till  today : 

That  all  beneath  the  soil  still  buried  lies  — 

The  soil  is  Caesar's,  his  shall  be  the  prize. 

TREASURES 

Now  for  a  fool  he  speaketh  not  amiss ; 

Our  Caesar's  ancient  right,  in  sooth,  was  this. 

CHANCELLOR 

Satan  for  you  spreads  golden  snares ;  'tis  clear, 
Something  not  right  or  pious  worketh  here. 

STEWARD 

To  us  at  court  if  welcome  gifts  he  bring, 
A  little  wrong  is  no  such  serious  thing. 

FIELD  MARSHAL 

Shrewd  is  the  fool,  he  bids  what  all  desire ; 
The  soldier,  whence  it  comes,  will  not  inquire. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  think  yourselves,  perchance,  deceived  by  me ; 
Ask  the  Astrologer!     This  man  is  he! 
Circle  round  circle,  hour  and  house,  he  knows. — 
Then  tell  us,  how  the  heavenly  aspect  shows. 

Murmur  of  the  Crowd 
Two  rascals  —  each  to  other  known — 
Phantast  and  fool  —  so  near  the  throne  — 
The  old,  old  song, —  now  trite  with  age  — 
The  fool  still  prompts  —  while  speaks  the  sage.- 


FAUST  —  PAKT  H  433 

ASTROLOGER   (speaks,  MEPHISTOPHELES  prompts) 

The  sun  himself  is  purest  gold ;  for  pay 

And  favor  serves  the  herald,  Mercury; 

Dame  Venus  hath  bewitched  you  from  above, 

Early  and  late,  she  looks  on  you  with  love ; 

Ohaste  Luna 's  humor  varies  hour  by  hour ; 

Mars,  though  he  strike  not,  threats  you  with  his  power, 

And  Jupiter  is  still  the  fairest  star; 

Saturn  is  great,  small  to  the  eye  and  far ; 

As  metal  him  we  slightly  venerate, 

Little  in  worth,  though  ponderous  in  weight. 

Now  when  with  Sol  fair  Luna  doth  unite. 

Silver  with  gold,  cheerful  the  world  and  bright ! 

Then  easy  'tis  to  gain  whate  'er  one  seeks ; 

Parks,  gardens,  palaces,  and  rosy  cheeks ; 

These  things  procures  this  highly  learned  man. 

He  can  accomplish  what  none  other  can. 

EMPEROR 

Double,  methinks,  his  accents  ring, 
And  yet  they  no  conviction  bring. 

Murmur 

Of  what  avail !  —  a  worn-out  tale  — 
Calendery  —  and  chemistry — 
I  the  false  word  —  full  oft  have  heard  — 
And  as  of  yore  —  we're  hoax'd  once  more. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  grand  discovery  they  misprize, 

As,  in  amaze,  they  stand  around; 

One  prates  of  gnomes  and  sorceries, 

Another  of  the  sable  hound. 

What  matters  it,  though  witlings  rail, 

Though  one  his  suit  'gainst  witchcraft  press, 

If  his  sole  tingle  none  the  less, 

If  his  sure  footing  also  fail! 

Ye  of  all  swaying  Nature  feel 

The  secret  working,  never-ending, 

VOL.  1  —  28 


434  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And,  from  her  lowest  depths  up-tending, 

E'en  now  her  living  trace  doth  steal. 

If  sudden  cramps  your  limbs  surprise, 

If  all  uncanny  seem  the  spot  — 

There  dig  and  delve,  but  dally  not ! 

There  lies  the  fiddler,  there  the  treasure  lies ! 

Murmur 

Like  lead  it  lies  my  foot  about  — 
Cramp 'd  is  my  arm — 'tis  only  gout  — 
Twitchings  I  have  in  my  great  toe  — 
Down  all  my  back  strange  pains  I  know  — 
Such  indications  make  it  clear 
That  sumless  treasuries  are  here. 

EMPEROB 

To  work  —  the  time  for  flight  is  past. — 
Put  to  the  test  your  frothy  lies! 
These  treasures  bring  before  our  eyes  I 
Sceptre  and  sword  aside  I'll  cast, 
And  with  these  royal  hands,  indeed, 
If  thou  lie  not,  to  work  proceed. 
Th«e,  if  thou  lie,  I'll  send  to  hell! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thither  to  find  the  way  I  know  full  well !  — 

Yet  can  I  not  enough  declare, 

What  wealth  unown  'd  lies  waiting  everywhere : 

The  countryman,  who  ploughs  the  land, 

Gold-crocks  upturneth  with  the  mould; 

Nitre  he  seeks  in  lime-walls  old, 

And  findeth,  in  his  meagre  hand, 

Scared,  yet  rejoiced,  rouleaus  of  gold. 

How  many  a  vault  upblown  must  be, 

Into  what  clefts,  what  shafts,  must  he 

Who  doth  of  hidden  treasure  know, 

Descend,  to  reach  the  world  below ! 

In  cellars  vast,  impervious  made, 

Goblets  of  gold  he  sees  displayed, 

Dishes  and  plates,  row  after  row ; 


FAUST  —  PAKT  H  435 

There  beakers,  rich  with  rubies,  stand ; 

And  would  he  use  them,  close  at  hand 

Well  stored  the  ancient  moisture  lies ; 

Yet — would  ye  him  who  knoweth,  trust?  — 

The  staves  long  since  have  turned  to  dust, 

A  tartar  cask  their  place  supplies ! 

Not  gold  alone  and  jewels  rare, 

Essence  of  noblest  wines  are  there, 

In  night  and  horror  veiled.     The  wise, 

Unwearied  here  pursues  his  quest. 

To  search  by  day,  that  were  a  jest ; 

'Tis  darkness  that  doth  harbor  mysteries. 

EMPEROB 

What  can  the  dark  avail  ?    Look  thou  to  that ! 
If  aught  have  worth,  it  cometh  to  the  light. 
Who  can  detect  the  rogue  at  dead  of  night? 
Black  are  the  cows,  and  gray  is  every  cat. 
These  pots  of  heavy  gold,  if  they  be  there  — 
Come,  drive  thy  plough,  upturn  them  with  thy  share ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Take  spade  and  hoe  thyself;  —  dig  on  — 
Great  shalt  thou  be  through  peasant  toil  — 
A  herd  of  golden  calves  anon 
Themselves  shall  tear  from  out  the  soil; 
Then  straight,  with  rapture  newly  born, 
Thyself  thou  canst,  thy  sweet-heart  wilt  adorn. 
A  sparkling  gem,  lustrous,  of  varied  dye, 
Beauty  exalts  as  well  as  majesty. 

EMPEROB 
To  work,  to  work!     How  long  wilt  linger? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Sire, 

Relax,  I  pray,  such  vehement  desire! 
First  let  us  see  the  motley,  joyous  show ! 
A  mind  distraught  conducts  not  to  the  goal. 
First  must  we  calmness  win  through  self-control, 


436  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Through  things  above  deserve  what  lies  below. 
Who  seeks  for  goodness,  must  himself  be  good; 
Who  seeks  for  joy,  must  moderate  his  blood; 
Who  wine  desires,  the  luscious  grape  must  press ; 
Who  craveth  miracles,  more  faith  possess. 

EMPEBOE 

So  be  the  interval  in  gladness  spent! 
Ash- Wednesday  cometh,  to  our  heart's  content. 
Meanwhile  we  '11  solemnize,  whate  'er  befall, 
More  merrily  the  joyous  Carnival. 

[Trumpets.    Exeunt.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

That  merit  and  success  are  link'd  together, 
This  to  your  fools  occurreth  never; 
Could  they  appropriate  the  wise  man's  stone, 
That,  not  the  wise  man,  they  would  prize  alone. 


ACT  THE  SECOND 

HIGH-VAULTED,    NARROW    GOTHIC     CHAMBER, 
FORMERLY    FAUST'S,    UNALTERED 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (stepping  from  behind  a  curtain.  While 
he  raises  it  and  looks  back,  FAUST  is  seen,  stretched 
upon  an  old-fashioned  bed) 

Lie  there,  ill-starred  one !     In  love 's  chain, 

Full  hard  to  loose,  he  captive  lies ! 

Not  soon  his  senses  will  regain 

Whom  Helena  doth  paralyze. 

(Looking  round) 

Above,  around,  on  every  side 

I  gaze,  uninjured  all  remains: 

Dimmer,  methinks,  appear  the  color 'd  panes, 

The  spiders'  webs  are  multiplied, 

Yellow  the  paper,  and  the  ink  is  dry; 

Yet  in  its  place  each  thing  I  find; 


FAUST  —  PAKT  II  437 

And  here  the  very  pen  doth  lie, 
Wherewith  himself  Faust  to  the  Devil  signed, 
Yea,  quite  dried  up,  and  deeper  in  the  bore, 
The  drop  of  blood,  I  lured  from  him  of  yore  — 
O'er  joyed  to  own  such  specimen  unique 
Were  he  who  objects  rare  is  fain  to  seek —  ; 
Here  on  its  hook  hangs  still  the  old  fur  cloak, 
Me  it  remindeth  of  that  merry  joke, 
When  to  the  boy  I  precepts  gave,  for  truth, 
Whereon,  perchance,  he's  feeding  now,  as  youth. 
The  wish  comes  over  me,  with  thee  allied, 
Enveloped  in  thy  worn  and  rugged  folds, 
Once  more  to  swell  with  the  professor's  pride  I 
How  quite  infallible  himself  he  holds; 
This  feeling  to  obtain  your  savants  know ; 
The  devil  parted  with  it  long  ago. 

[He  shakes  the  fur  cloak  which  he  has  taken  down; 
crickets,  moths,  and  chafers  fly  out.] 

CHOBUS  OF  INSECTS 

We  welcome  thy  coming, 
Our  patron  of  yore ! 
We  're  dancing  and  humming, 
And  know  thee  once  more. 
Us  singly,  in  silence, 
Hast  planted,  and  lo ! 
By  thousands,  oh  Father, 
We  dance  to  and  fro. 
The  rogue  hides  discreetly 
The  bosom  within; 
We  looseskins  fly  rather 
Forth  from  the  fur  skin. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

O'er  joyed  I  am  my  progeny  to  know! 
We're  sure  to  reap  in  time,  if  we  but  sow. 
I  shake  the  old  fur-mantle  as  before, 
And  here  and  there  out  flutters  one  or  more. — 
Above,  around,  hasten,  beloved  elves, 


438  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

In  hundred  thousand  nooks  to  hide  yourselves! 

'Mid  boxes  there  of  by-gone  time, 

Here  in  these  age-embrowned  scrolls, 

In  broken  potsherds,  foul  with  grime, 

In  yonder  skulls'  now  eyeless  holes! 

Amid  such  rotten,  mouldering  life, 

Must  foolish  whims  for  aye  be  rife. 

[Slips  into  the  fur  mantle.] 
Come  shroud  my  shoulders  as  of  yore ! 
Today  I'm  principal  once  more; 
But  useless  'tis,  to  bear  the  name: 
Where  are  the  folk  to  recognize  my  claim? 

[He  pulls  the  bell,  which  emits  a  shrill  penetrating 

sound,  at  which  the  halls  shake  and  the  doors 

spring  open.] 

FAMULUS  (tottering  up  the  long  dark  passage) 
What  a  clamor !     What  a  quaking ! 
Stairs  are  rocking,  walls  are  shaking: 
Through  the  windows'  quivering  sheen, 
Are  the  stormful  lightnings  seen; 
Springs  the  ceiling, —  thence,  below, 
Lime  and  mortar  rattling  flow: 
And,  though  bolted  fast,  the  door 
Is  undone  by  magic  power! 
There,  in  Faust's  old  fleece  bedight, 
Stands  a  giant, —  dreadful  sight! 
At  his  glance,  his  beck,  at  me! 
I  could  sink  upon  my  knee. 
Shall  I  fly,  or  shall  I  stay? 
What  will  be  my  fate  today ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Come  hither,  friend!  —  Your  name  is  NicodemusT 

FAMULUS 

Most  honor 'd  Sir,  such  is  my  name. —  Oremus! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

That  we'll  omit! 


FAUST  — PART  n  439 

FAMULUS 

0  joy,  me  you  do  not  forget. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  know  it  well :  old,  and  a  student  yet ; 

My  mossy  friend,  even  a  learned  man 

Still  studies  on,  because  naught  else  he  can: 

Thus  a  card-house  each  builds  of  medium  height; 

The  greatest  spirit  fails  to  build  it  quite. 

Your  master,  though,  that  title  well  may  claim  — 

The  noble  Doctor  Wagner,  known  to  fame, 

First  in  the  learned  world !     'Tis  he,  they  say, 

Who  holds  that  world  together;  every  day 

Of  wisdom  he  augments  the  store! 

Who  crave  omniscience,  evermore 

In  crowds  upon  his  teaching  wait ; 

He  from  the  rostrum  shines  alone; 

The  keys  doth  like  Saint  Peter  own, 

And  doth  of  Hell  and  Heaven  ope  the  gate; 

As  before  all  he  glows  and  sparkles, 

No  fame,  no  glory  but  grows  dim, 

Even  the  name  of  Faustus  darkles! 

Inventor  there  is  none  like  him. 

FAMULUS 

Pardon,  most  honor 'd  Sir,  excuse  me,  pray — 
If  I  presume  your  utterance  to  gainsay  — 
This  bears  not  on  the  question  any  way ; 
A  modest  mind  is  his  allotted  share. 
The  disappearance,  unexplained  as  yet, 
Of  the  great  man,  his  mind  doth  sorely  fret; 
Comfort  from  his  return  and  health  are  still  his  prayer. 
The  chamber,  as  in  Doctor  Faustus'  day, 
Maintains,  untouched,  its  former  state, 
And  for  its  ancient  lord  doth  wait. 
Venture  therein  I  scarcely  may. 
What  now  the  aspect  of  the  stars?  — 
Awe-struck  the  very  walls  appear; 
The  door-posts  quivered,  sprang  the  bars  — 
Else  you  yourself  could  not  have  entered  here. 


440  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Where  then  bestowed  himself  hath  he? 
Lead  me  to  him!  bring  him  to  me! 

FAMULUS 

Alas !     Too  strict  his  prohibition, 
Scarce  dare  I,  without  his  permission. 
Months,  on  his  mighty  work  intent, 
Hath  he,  in  strict  seclusion  spent. 
Most  dainty  'mong  your  men  of  books, 
Like  charcoal-burner  now  he  looks, 
With  face  begrimed  from  ear  to  nose; 
His  eyes  are  blear 'd  while  fire  he  blows; 
Thus  for  the  crisis  still  he  longs; 
His  music  is  the  clang  of  tongs. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Admittance  unto  me  deny? 

To  hasten  his  success,  the  man  am  I. 

[Exit  FAMULUS.     MEPHISTOPHELES  seats  himself 

with  a  solemn  air.] 
Scarce  have  I  ta'en  my  post,  when  lo! 
Stirs  from  behind  a  guest,  whom  well  I  know ; 
Of  the  most  recent  school,  this  time,  is  he, 
And  quite  unbounded  will  his  daring  be. 

BACCALAUKEUS  (storming  along  the  passage) 
Open  find  I  door  and  gate ! 
Hope  at  last  springs  up  elate, 
That  the  living  shall  no  more 
Corpse-like  rot,  as  heretofore, 
And,  while  breathing  living  breath, 
Waste  and  moulder  as  in  death. 
Here  partition,  screen,  and  wall 
Are  sinking,  bowing  to  their  fall, 
And,  unless  we  soon  retreat, 
Wreck  and  ruin  us  will  greet. 
Me,  though  bold,  nor  soon  afraid, 
To  advance  shall  none  persuade. 


FAUST  —  PAKT  H  441 

What  shall  I  experience  next? 
Years  ago,  when  sore  perplexed, 
Came  I  not  a  freshman  here, 
Full  of  anxious  doubt  and  fear, 
On  these  gray-beards  then  relied, 
By  their  talk  was  edified? 
What  from  musty  tomes  they  drew, 
They  lied  to  me ;  the  things  they  knew 
Believed  they  not;  with  falsehood  rife, 
Themselves  and  me  they  robbed  of  life. 
How?  —  Yonder  is  the  murky  glare, 
There's  one  still  sitting  in  the  Chair  — 
Drawing  near  I  wonder  more  — 
Just  as  him  I  left  of  yore, 
There  he  sits,  in  furry  gown, 
Wrapped  in  shaggy  fleece,  the  brown ! 
Then  he  clever  seemed,  indeed, 
Him  as  yet  I  could  not  read; 
Naught  will  it  avail  today; 
So  have  at  him,  straight-away ! 

If  Lethe 's  murky  flood  not  yet  hath  passed, 

Old  Sir,  through  your  bald  pate,  that  sideways  bends, 

The  scholar  recognize,  who  hither  wends, 

Outgrown  your  academic  rods  at  last. 

The  same  I  find  you,  as  of  yore ; 

But  I  am  now  the  same  no  more. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Glad  am  I  that  I've  rung  you  here. 
I  prized  you  then  not  slightingly ; 
In  grub  and  chrysalis  appear 
The  future  brilliant  butterfly. 
A  childish  pleasure  then  you  drew 
From  collar,  lace,  and  curls. —  A  queue 
You  probably  have  never  worn?  — 
Now  to  a  crop  I  see  you  shorn. 
All  resolute  and  bold  your  air  — 
But  from  the  absolute  forbear ! 


442  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

BACCALAUREUS 

"We're  in  the  ancient  place,  mine  ancient  Sir, 

But  think  upon  time's  onward  flow, 

And  words  of  double-meaning  spare! 

Quite  otherwise  we  hearken  now. 

You  fooled  the  simple,  honest  youth; 

It  cost  but  little  art  in  sooth, 

To  do  what  none  today  will  dare. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  to  the  young  the  naked  truth  one  speaks, 

It  pleases  in  no  wise  the  yellow  beaks ; 

But  afterward,  when  in  their  turn 

On  their  own  skin  the  painful  truth  they  learn, 

They  think,  forsooth,  from  their  own  head  it  came ; 

"  The  master  was  a  fool,"  they  straight  proclaim. 

BACCALAUREUS 

A  rogue  perchance !  —  For  where 's  the  teacher  found 
Who  to  our  face,  direct,  will  Truth  expound! 
Children  to  edify,  each  knows  the  way, 
To  add  or  to  subtract,  now  grave,  now  gay. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

For  learning  there 's  in  very  truth  a  time ; 
For  teaching,  I  perceive,  you  now  are  prime. 
While  a  few  suns  and  many  moons  have  waned, 
A  rich  experience  you  have  doubtless  gained! 

BACCALAUREUS 

Experience!    Froth  and  scum  alone, 
Not  with  the  mind  of  equal  birth ! 
Confess!  what  men  have  always  known, 
As  knowledge  now  is  nothing  worth. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (after  a  pause) 
I  long  have  thought  myself  a  fool ; 
Now  shallow  to  myself  I  seem,  and  dull. 


FAUST  — PAET  II  443 

BACCALAUREUS 

That  pleases  me!    Like  reason  that  doth  sound; 
The  first  old  man  of  sense  I  yet  have  found ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  sought  for  hidden  treasures,  genuine  gold  — 
And  naught  but  hideous  ashes  forth  I  bore ! 

BACCALAUREUS 

Confess  that  pate  of  yours,  though  bare  and  old, 
Than  yonder  hollow  skull  is  worth  no  more ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (good-naturedly) 
Thou  know'st  not,  friend,  how  rude  is  thy  reply. 

BACCALAUREUS 

In  German  to  be  courteous  is  to  lie. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (still  moving  his  wheel-chair  ever  nearer 

to  the  proscenium,  to  the  pit) 
Up  here  I  am  bereft  of  light  and  air; 
I  perhaps  shall  find  a  refuge  with  you  there! 

BACCALAUREUS 

When  at  their  worst,  that  men  would  something  be, 

When  they  are  naught,  presumptuous  seems  to  me. 

Man's  life  is  in  the  blood,  and  where,  in  sooth, 

Pulses  the  blood  so  strongly  as  in  youth? 

That's  living  blood,  which  with  fresh  vigor  rife, 

The  newer  life  createth  out  of  life. 

There  all  is  movement,  something  there  is  done ; 

Falleth  the  weak,  the  able  presses  on! 

While  half  the  world  we  'neath  our  sway  have  brought, 

What  have  ye  done?    Slept,  nodded,  dream 'd,  and  thought, 

Plan  after  plan  rejected;  —  nothing  won. 

Age  is,  in  sooth,  a  fever  cold, 

With  frost  of  whims  and  peevish  need : 

When  more  than  thirty  years  are  told, 

As  good  as  dead  one  is  indeed : 

You  it  were  best,  methinks,  betimes  to  slay. 


444  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  devil  here  has  nothing  more  to  say. 

BACCALAUREUS 

Save  through  my  will,  no  devil  dares  to  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (aside) 

The  devil  now  prepares  a  fall  for  thee ! 

BACCALAUREUS 

The  noblest  mission  this  of  youth's  estate. 

The  world  was  not,  till  it  I  did  create ; 

The  radiant  Sun  I  led  from  out  the  sea ; 

Her  changeful  course  the  Moon  began  with  me ; 

The  Day  arrayed  herself  my  steps  to  meet, 

The  Earth  grew  green,  and  blossom 'd  me  to  greet: 

At  my  command,  upon  yon  primal  Night, 

The  starry  hosts  unveiled  their  glorious  light. 

Who,  beside  me,  the  galling  chains  unbound, 

Which  cramping  thought  had  cast  your  spirits  round? 

But  I  am  free,  as  speaks  my  spirit-voice, 

My  inward  light  I  follow,  and  rejoice ; 

Swift  I  advance,  enraptur'd,  void  of  fear, 

Brightness  before  me,  darkness  in  the  rear.  [Exit.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Go,  in  thy  pride,  Original,  thy  way !  — 

True  insight  would,  in  truth,  thy  spirit  grieve  1 

What  wise  or  stupid  thoughts  can  man  conceive, 

Unponder'd  in  the  ages  passed  away?  — 

Yet  we  for  him  need  no  misgiving  have ; 

Changed  will  he  be,  when  a  few  years  are  past ; 

Howe'er  absurdly  may  the  must  behave, 

Nathless  it  yields  a  wine  at  last. — 

(To  the  younger  part  of  the  audience,  who  do  not  applaud.) 

Though  to  my  words  you're  somewhat  cold, 

Good  children,  me  you  don't  offend; 

Reflect!    The  devil,  he  is  old; 

Grow  old  then,  him  to  comprehend ! 


FAUST  — PAET  H  445 

LABORATORY 

(After  the  fashion  of  the  middle  ages;  cumbrous,  useless 
apparatus,  for  fantastic  purposes) 

WAGNER  (at  the  furnace) 
Soundeth  the  bell,  the  fearful  clang 
Thrills  through  these  sooty  walls ;  no  more 
Upon  fulfilment  waits  the  pang 
Of  hope  or  fear ;  —  suspense  is  o  'er ; 
The  darknesses  begin  to  clear, 
Within  the  inmost  phial  glows 
Radiance,  like  living  coal,  that  throws, 
As  from  a  splendid  carbuncle,  its  rays ; 
Athwart  the  gloom  its  lightning  plays. 
A  pure  white  lustre  doth  appear; 
0  may  I  never  lose  it  more !  — 
My  God!  what  rattles  at  the  door? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (entering) 
Welcome !    As  friend  I  enter  here. 

WAGNER 
Hail  to  the  star  that  rules  the  hour ! 

(Softly) 

On  breath  and  utterance  let  a  ban  be  laid ! 
Soon  will  be  consummate  a  work  of  power. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (in  a  whisper) 
What  is  it,  then! 

WAGNER 

A  man  is  being  made. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  man?  and  pray  what  loving  pair 
Have  in  your  smoke-hole  their  abode? 

WAGNER 

Nay !    Heaven  forbid !    As  nonsense  we  declare 
The  ancient  procreative  mode; 


446  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

The  tender  point,  life 's  spring,  the  gentle  strength 

That  took  and  gave,  that  from  within  hath  pressed, 

And  seized,  intent  itself  to  manifest, 

The  nearest  first,  the  more  remote  at  length, — 

This  from  its  dignity  is  now  dethron'd ! 

The  brute  indeed  may  take  delight  therein, 

But  man,  by  whom  such  mighty  gifts  are  ownM, 

Must  have  a  purer,  higher  origin. 

(He  turns  to  the  furnace) 
It  flashes,  see!  —  Now  may  we  trustful  hold, 
That  if,  of  substances  a  hundred-fold, 
Through  mixture, —  for  on  mixture  it  depends  — 
The  human  substance  duly  we  compose, 
And  then  in  a  retort  enclose, 
And  cohobate ;  in  still  repose 
The  work  is  perfected,  our  labor  ends. 

(Again  turning  to  the  furnace) 
It  forms !    More  clear  the  substance  shows ! 
Stronger,  more  strong,  conviction  grows ! 
What  Nature's  mystery  we  once  did  style, 
That  now  to  test,  our  reason  tries, 
And  what  she  organized  erewhile, 
We  now  are  fain  to  crystallize. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Who  lives,  doth  much  experience  glean; 
By  naught  in  this  world  will  he  be  surprised; 
Already  in  my  travel-years  I've  seen 
Full  many  a  race  of  mortals  crystallized. 

WAGNEB  (still  gazing  intently  on  the  phial) 
It  mounts,  it  glows,  and  doth  together  run, 
One  moment,  and  the  work  is  done ! 
As  mad,  a  grand  design  at  first  is  view'd; 
But  we  henceforth  may  laugh  at  fate, 
And  so  a  brain,  with  thinking-power  embued, 
Henceforth  your  living  thinker  will  create. 


FAUST  — PAET  II  447 

(Surveying  the  phial  with  rapture) 
The  glass  resounds,  with  gracious  power  possessed ; 
It  dims,  grows  clear;  living  it  needs  must  be ! 
And  now  in  form  of  beauty  dressed, 
A  dainty  mannikin  I  see. 

What  more  can  we  desire,  what  more  mankind? 
Unveiled  is  now  what  hidden  was  of  late ; 
Give  ear  unto  this  sound,  and  you  will  find, 
A  voice  it  will  become,  articulate. — 

HOMUNCULUS  (in  the  phial,  to  WAGNER) 
Now,  Fatherkin,  how  goes  it?    'Twas  no  jest! 
Come,  let  me  to  thy  heart  be  fondly  pressed  — 
Lest  the  glass  break,  less  tight  be  thine  embrace 
This  is  the  property  of  things :  the  All 
Scarcely  suffices  for  the  natural; 
The  artificial  needs  a  bounded  space. 

(To  MEPHISTOPHELES) 

But  thou,  Sir  Cousin,  Rogue,  art  thou  too  here? 
At  the  right  moment !    Thee  I  thank.    'Tis  clear 
To  us  a  happy  fortune  leadeth  thee ; 
While  I  exist,  still  must  I  active  be, 
And  to  the  work  forthwith  myself  would  gird ; 
Thou'rt  skill 'd  the  way  to  shorten. 

WAGNER 

Just  one  word ! 

I  oft  have  been  ashamed  that  knowledge  failed, 
When  old  and  young  with  problems  me  assailed. 
For  instance :  no  one  yet  could  comprehend, 
How  soul  and  body  so  completely  blend, 
Together  hold,  as  ne'er  to  part,  while  they 
Torment  each  other  through  the  live-long  day. 
So  then — 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Forbear !    The  problem  solve  for  me, 
Why  man  and  wife  so  wretchedly  agree? 


448  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Upon  this  point,  my  friend,  thou  'It  ne  'er  be  clear ; 
The  mannikin  wants  work,  he'll  find  it  here. 

HOMUNCULUS 

What's  to  be  done? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (pointing  to  a  side  door) 
Yonder  thy  gifts  display! 

WAGNER  (sttil  gazing  into  the  phial) 
A  very  lovely  boy,  I  needs  must  say ! 

(The  side  door  opens;  FAUST  is  seen  stretched  upon  a 

couch) 

HOMUNCULUS  (amazed) 
Momentous ! 

(The  phial  slips  from  WAGNER'S  hands,  hovers  over 
FAUST,  and  sheds  a  light  upon  him) 
Girt  with  beauty !  —  Water  clear 
In  the  thick  grove ;  fair  women,  who  undress ; 
Most  lovely  creatures !  —  grows  their  loveliness : 
But  o  'er  the  rest  one  shines  without  a  peer, 
As  if  from  heroes,  nay  from  gods  she  came ; 
In  the  transparent  sheen  her  foot  she  laves ; 
The  tender  life-fire  of  her  noble  frame 
She  cools  in  yielding  crystal  of  the  waves. — 
Of  swiftly  moving  wings  what  sudden  noise? 
What  plash,  what  plunge  the  liquid  glass  destroys  ? 
The  maidens  fly,  alarmed;  alone,  the  queen, 
With  calm  composure  gazes  on  the  scene; 
With  womanly  and  proud  delight,  she  sees 
The  prince  of  swans  press  fondly  to  her  knees, 
Persistent,  tame;  familiar  now  he  grows. — 
But  suddenly  up-floats  a  misty  shroud, 
And  with  thick-woven  veil  doth  over-cloud 
The  loveliest  of  all  lovely  shows. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why  thou  in  sooth  canst  everything  relate! 
Small  as  thou  art,  as  phantast  thou  art  great. 
I  can  see  nothing — 


FAUST  — PAET  H  449 

HOMUNCULUS 

I  believe  it.    Thou, 

Bred  in  the  north,  in  the  dark  ages,  how, 
In  whirl  of  priesthood  and  knight-errantry, 
Have  for  such  sights  thy  vision  free ! 
In  darkness  only  thou'rt  at  home. 

(Looking  round) 

Ye  brown,  repulsive  blocks  of  stone, 
Arch-pointed,  low,  with  mould  overgrown! 
Should  he  awake,  new  care  were  bred, 
He  on  the  spot  would  straight  be  dead. 
Wood-fountains,  swans,  fair  nymphs  undressed, 
Such  was  his  dream,  presageful,  rare; 
In  place  like  this  how  could  he  rest, 
Which  I,  of  easy  mood,  scarce  bear ! 
Away  with  him ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  like  your  plan,  proceed! 

HOMUNCULUS 

Command  the  warrior  to  the  fight, 

The  maiden  to  the  dancers  lead! 

They're  satisfied,  and  all  is  right. 

E  'en  now  a  thought  occurs,  most  bright ;  • 

'Tis  classical  Walpurgis-night  — 

Most  fortunate !    It  suits  his  bent, 

So  bring  him  straightway  to  his  element! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  such  I  ne  'er  have  heard,  I  frankly  own. 

HOMUNCULUS 

Upon  your  ear  indeed  how  should  it  fall? 
Only  romantic  ghosts  to  you  are  known; 
Your  genuine  ghost  is  also  classical. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  whitherward  to  travel  are  we  fain? 

Your  antique  colleagues  are  against  my  grain. 

VOL.  1  —  29 


450  THE  GEEMAN  CLASSICS 

HOMUNCULUS 

North-westward,  Satan,  lies  thy  pleasure-ground ; 
But,  this  time,  we  to  the  south-east  are  bound. — 
An  ample  vale  Peneios  floweth  through, 
'Mid  bush  and  tree  its  curving  shores  it  laves ; 
The  plain  extendeth  to  the  mountain  caves, 
Above  it  lies  Pharsalus,  old  and  new. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Alas !    Forbear !    For  ever  be  eschewed 

Those  wars  of  tyranny  and  servitude ! 

I'm  bored  with  them:  for  they,  as  soon  as  done, 

Straight  recommence;  and  no  one  calls  to  mind 

That  he  in  sooth  is  only  played  upon 

By  Asmodeus,  who  still  lurks  behind. 

They  battle,  so  'tis  said,  for  freedom's  rights  — 

More  clearly  seen,  'tis  slave  'gainst  slave  who  fights. 

HOMUNCULTJS 

Leave  we  to  men  their  nature,  quarrel-prone ! 
Each  must  defend  himself,  as  best  he  can, 
From  boyhood  up ;  so  he  becomes  a  man. 
The  question  here  is,  how  to  cure  this  one! 

(Pointing  to  FAUST) 

Hast  thou  a  means,  here  let  it  tested  be ; 
Canst  thou  do  naught,  then  leave  the  task  to  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Full  many  a  Brocken-piece  I  might  essay, 
But  bolts  of  heathendom  foreclose  the  way. 
The  Grecian  folk  were  ne  'er  worth  much,  'tis  true, 
Yet  with  the  senses'  play  they  dazzle  you; 
To  cheerful  sins  the  human  heart  they  lure, 
While  ours  are  reckoned  gloomy  and  obscure. 
And  now  what  next? 

HOMUNCULUS 

Of  old  thou  wert  not  shy ; 
And  if  I  name  Thessalian  witches, —  why, 
I  something  shall  have  said, —  of  that  I'm  sure. 


FAUST  — PAET  H  451 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (lustfully) 

Thessalian  witches  —  well !  the  people  they 
Concerning  whom  I  often  have  inquired. 
Night  after  night,  indeed,  with  them  to  stay, 
That  were  an  ordeal  not  to  be  desired; 
But  for  a  trial  trip  — 

HOMUNCULUS 

The  mantle  there 

Eeach  hither,  wrap  it  round  the  knight! 
As  heretofore,  the  rag  will  bear 
Both  him  and  thee;  the  way  I'll  light. 

WAGNER  (alarmed) 
And  IT 

HOMUNCULUS 

At  home  thou  wilt  remain, 
Thee  most  important  work  doth  there  detain ; 
The  ancient  scrolls  unfolding  cull 
Life's  elements,  as  taught  by  rule, 
And  each  with  other  then  combine  with  care ; 
Upon  the  What,  more  on  the  How,  reflect! 
Meanwhile  as  through  a  piece  of  world  I  fare, 
I  may  the  dot  upon  the  1 1 1 ' '  detect. 
Then  will  the  mighty  aim  accomplish 'd  be; 
Such  high  reward  deserves  such  striving;  —  wealth, 
Honor  and  glory,  lengthen 'd  life,  sound  health, 
Knowledge  withal  and  virtue  —  possibly. 
Farewell ! 

WAGNEB 

Farewell !    That  grieves  my  heart  full  sore ! 
I  fear  indeed  I  ne  'er  shall  see  thee  more. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  to  Peneios  forth  we  wend ! 
We  must  not  slight  our  cousin's  aid. 

(To  the  spectators) 
At  last,  in  sooth,  we  all  depend 
On  creatures  we  ourselves  have  made. 


452  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

ACT  THE  THIRD 

BEFORE  THE  PALACE  OF  MENELAUS  IN  SPARTA 

Enter  HELENA,  with  a  chorus  of  captive  Trojan  women 
PENTHALIS,  leader  of  the  chorus 

HELENA 

The  much  admired  and  much  upbraided,  Helena, 
From  yonder  strand  I  come,  where  erst  we  disembark 'd, 
Still  giddy  from  the  roll  of  ocean's  billowy  surge, 
Which,   through   Poseidon's    favor   and   through   Euros' 

might, 

On  lofty  crested  backs  hither  hath  wafted  us, 
From  Phrygia's  open  field,  to  our  ancestral  bays. 
Yonder  King  Menelaus,  glad  of  his  return, 
With  his  brave  men  of  war,  rejoices  on  the  beach. 
But  oh,  thou  lofty  mansion,  bid  me  welcome  home, 
Thou,  near  the  steep  decline,  which  Tyndareus,  my  sire, 
From  Pallas'  hill  returning,  here  hath  builded  up; 
Which  also  was  adorned  beyond  all  Sparta's  homes, 
What  time  with  Clytemnestra,  sister-like,  I  grew, 
With  Castor,  Pollux,  too,  playing  in  joyous  sport. 
Wings  of  yon  brazen  portals,  you  I  also  hail! 
Through  you,  ye  guest-inviting,  hospitable  gates, 
Hath  Menelaus  once,  from  many  princes  chosen, 
Shone  radiant  on  my  sight,  in  nuptial  sort  arrayed. 
Expand  to  me  once  more,  that  I  the  king's  behest 
May  faithfully  discharge,  as  doth  the  spouse  beseem. 
Let  me  within,  and  all  henceforth  behind  remain, 
That,  charged  with  doom,  till  now  darkly  hath  round  me 

stormed ! 

For  since,  by  care  untroubled,  I  these  sites  forsook, 
Seeking  Cythera's  fane,  as  sacred  wont  enjoined, 
And  by  the  spoiler  there  was  seized,  the  Phrygian, 
Happened  have  many  things,  whereof  men  far  and  wide 
Are  fain  to  tell,  but  which  not  fain  to  hear  is  he 
Of  whom  the  tale,  expanding,  hath  to  fable  grown. 


FAUST  —  PAKT  II  453 

CHORUS 

Disparage  not,  oh  glorious  dame, 

Honor 'd  possession  of  highest  estate! 

For  sole  unto  thee  is  the  greatest  boon  given; 

The  fame  of  beauty  that  all  over-towers ! 

The  hero's  name  before  him  resounds, 

So  strides  he  with  pride ; 

Nathless  at  once  the  stubbornest  yields 

To  beauty,  the  presence  which  all  things  subdues. 

HELENA 

Enough !    I  with  my  spouse,  ship-borne,  have  hither  sped, 
And  to  his  city  now  by  him  before  am  sent. 
But  what  the  thought  he  harbors,  that  I  cannot  guess. 
Come  I  as  consort  hither?    Come  I  as  a  queen? 
Come  I  as  victim  for  the  prince's  bitter  pangs, 
And  for  the  evils  dire,  long  suffered  by  the  Greeks? 
Conquered  I  am;  but  whether  captive,  know  I  not: 
For  the  Immortal  Powers  fortune  and  fame  for  me 
Have  doomed  ambiguous;  direful  ministers  that  wait 
On  beauty's  form,  who  even  on  this  threshold  here, 
With  dark  and  threat 'ning  mien,  stand  bodeful  at  my  side! 
Already,  ere  we  left  the  hollow  ship,  my  spouse 
Looked  seldom  on  me,  spake  no  comfortable  word; 
As  though  he  mischief  brooded,  facing  me  he  sat. 
But  now,  when  to  Eurotas'  deeply  curving  shores 
Steering  our  course,  scarce  had  our  foremost  vessel 's  beak 
The  land  saluted,  spake  he,  as  by  God  inspired : 
* '  Here  let  my  men  of  war,  in  ordered  ranks,  disbark ; 
I  marshal  them,  drawn  up  upon  the  ocean  strand; 
But  thou,  pursue  thy  way,  not  swerving  from  the  banks, 
Laden  with  fruit,  that  bound  Eurotas'  sacred  stream, 
Thy  coursers  guiding  o'er  the  moist  enamelled  meads, 
Until  thou  may'st  arrive  at  that  delightful  plain, 
Where  Lacedffimon,  once  a  broad  fruit-bearing  field, 
By  mountains  stern  surrounded  lifteth  now  its  walls. 
Set  thou  thy  foot  within  the  tower-crown 'd  princely  house, 
Assemble  thou  the  maids,  whom  I  at  parting  left, 


454  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

And  with  them  summon  too  the  wise  old  stewardess. 
Bid  her  display  to  thee  the  treasures'  ample  store, 
As  by  thy  sire  bequeathed,  and  which,  in  peace  and  war, 
Increasing  evermore,  I  have  myself  up-piled. 
All  standing  shalt  thou  find  in  ancient  order ;  for, 
This  is  the  prince's  privilege,  that  to  his  home, 
When  he  returns  at  last,  safe  everything  he  finds, 
Each  in  its  proper  place,  as  he  hath  left  it  there. 
For  nothing  of  himself  the  slave  hath  power  to  change/ 

CHOEUS 

Oh  gladden  now,  with  glorious  wealth, 
Ever  increasing,  thine  eye  and  heart! 
For  beautiful  chains,  the  adornment  of  crowns, 
Are  priding  themselves,  in  haughty  repose; 
But  step  thou  in,  and  challenge  them  all, 
They  arm  themselves  straight; 
I  joy  to  see  beauty  contend  for  the  prize, 
With  gold,  and  with  pearls,  and  with  jewels  of  price. 

HELENA 

Forthwith  hath  followed  next  this  mandate  of  my  lord : 
'  *  Now  when  in  order  thou  all  things  hast  duly  seen, 
As  many  tripods  take,  as  needful  thou  may'st  deem, 
And  vessels  manifold,  which  he  at  hand  requires, 
Who  duly  would  perform  the  sacrificial  rite, 
The  caldrons,  and  the  bowls,  and  shallow  altar-plates ; 
Let  purest  water,  too,  from  sacred  fount  be  there, 
In  lofty  pitchers;  further,  store  of  season 'd  wood, 
Quick  to  accept  the  flame,  hold  thou  in  readiness; 
A  knife,  of  sharpest  edge,  let  it  not  fail  at  last. 
But  I  all  other  things  to  thy  sole  care  resign." 
So  spake  he,  urging  me  at  once  to  part ;  but  naught, 
Breathing  the  breath  of  life,  the  orderer  appoints, 
That,  to  the  Olympians'  honor,  he  to  slaughter  doom'd: 
Suspicious  seems  it!  yet,  dismiss  I  further  care; 
To  the  high  Gods'  decree  be  everything  referred, 
Who  evermore  fulfil,  what  they  in  thought  conceive ; 
It  may,  in  sooth,  by  men,  as  evil  or  as  good 


FAUST  — PAKT  II  455 

Be  counted,  it  by  us,  poor  mortals,  must  be  borne. 
Full  oft  the  ponderous  axe  on  high  the  priest  hath  raised, 
In  consecration  o'er  the  earth-bowed  victim's  neck. 
Nor  could  achieve  the  rite,  for  he  was  hindered, 
Or  by  approaching  foe,  or  intervening  God. 

CHORUS 

What  now  will  happen,  canst  thou  not  guess ; 
Enter,  queen,  enter  thou  in, 
Strong  of  heart! 
Evil  cometh  and  good 
Unexpected  to  mortals; 
Though  foretold,  we  credit  it  not. 
Troya  was  burning,  have  we  not  seen 
Death  before  us,  terrible  death! 
And  are  we  not  here, 
Bound  to  thee,  serving  with  joy, 
Seeing  the  dazzling  sunshine  of  heaven, 
And  of  earth  too  the  fairest, 
Kind  one  —  thyself  —  happy  are  we! 

HELENA 

Come  what  come  may!     Whate'er  impends,  me  it  behoves 
To  ascend,  without  delay,  into  the  royal  house, 
Long  missed,  oft  yearned-f or,  well-nigh  forfeited ; 
Before  mine  eyes  once  more  it  stands,  I  know  not  how. 
My  feet  now  bear  me  not  so  lightly  as  of  yore, 
When  up  the  lofty  steps  I,  as  a  child,  have  sprung. 

CHORUS 

Fling  now,  0  sisters,  ye 
Captives  who  mourn  your  lot, 
All  your  sorrows  far  from  you. 
Share  ye  your  mistress'  joy! 
Share  ye  Helena's  joy, 
Who  to  the  dear  paternal  hearth, 
Though  returning  full  late  in  sooth, 
Nathless  with  surer,  firmer  tread 
Joyfully  now  approaches ! 


456  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Praise  ye  the  holy  ones, 

Happy  restoring  ones, 

God's,  the  home-leaders,  praise  ye! 

Soars  the  enfranchised  one, 

As  upon  out-spread  wings, 

Over  the  roughest  fate,  while  in  vain 

Pines  the  captured  one,  yearning-fraught 

Over  the  prison-battlements 

Arms  out-stretching,  in  anguish. 

Nathless  her  a  god  hath  seized, 

The  exiled  one, 

And  from  Ilion's  wreck 

Bare  her  hitherw^rd  back  once  more, 

To  the  ancient,  the  newly-adorned 

Father-house, 

After  unspeakable 

Pleasure  and  anguish, 

Earlier  youthful  time, 

Newly  quicken 'd,  to  ponder. 

PENTHALIS  (as  leader  of  the  chorus) 
Forsake  ye  now  of  song  the  joy-surrounded  path, 
As  toward  the  portal-wings  turn  ye  forthwith  your  gaze! 
What  see  I,  sisters?     Here,  returneth  not  the  queen? 
With  step  of  eager  haste,  comes  she  not  back  to  us?  — 
What  is  it,  mighty  queen,  that  in  the  palace-halls, 
Instead  of  friendly  hail,  could  there  encounter  thee, 
And  shatter  thus  thy  being?     Thou  conceal 'st  it  not; 
For  I  abhorrence  see,  impressed  upon  thy  brow, 
And  noble  anger,  that  contendeth  with  surprise. 

HELENA  (who  has  left  the  folded  doors  open,  excited) 
No  vulgar  fear  beseems  the  daughter  of  high  Zeus, 
And  her  no  lightly-fleeting  terror-hand  may  touch; 
But  that  dire  horror  which,  from  womb  of  ancient  Night, 
In  time  primeval  rising,  still  in  divers  shapes, 
Like  lurid  clouds,  from  out  the  mountain's  fiery  gorge, 
Whirls  itself  forth,  may  shake  even  the  hero's  breast. 


FAUST  — PAET  II  457 

Thus  have  the  Stygian  Gods,  with  horror  fraught,  today 
Mine  entrance  to  the  house  so  marked,  that  fain  I  am, 
Back  from  the  oft-time  trod,  long-yearned-for  threshold 

now, 

Like  to  a  guest  dismissed,  departing,  to  retire. 
Yet  no,  retreated  have  I  hither  to  the  light ; 
No  further  shall  ye  drive  me,  Powers,  who'er  ye  be! 
Some  expiation,  I'll  devise,  then  purified, 
The  hearth-flame  welcome  may  the  consort  as  the  lord. 

LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS 

Discover,  noble  queen,  to  us  thy  handmaidens, 
Devotedly  who  serve  thee,  what  hath  come  to  pass ! 

HELENA 

What  I  have  seen  ye,  too,  with  your  own  eyes,  shall  see, 
If  ancient  Night,  within  her  wonder-teeming  womb, 
Hath  not  forthwith  engulfed,  once  more,  her  ghastly  birth ; 
But  yet,  that  ye  may  know,  with  words  I'll  tell  it  you :  — 
What  time  the  royal  mansion's  gloomy  inner  court, 
Upon  my  task  intent,  with  solemn  step  I  trod, 
I  wondered  at  the  drear  and  silent  corridors. 
Pell  on  mine  ear  no  sound  of  busy  servitors, 
No  stir  of  rapid  haste,  officious,  met  my  gaze ; 
Before  me  there  appeared  no  maid,  no  stewardess, 
Who  every  stranger  erst,  with  friendly  greeting,  hailed. 
But  when  I  neared  at  length  the  bosom  of  the  hearth, 
There  saw  I,  by  the  light  of  dimly  smouldering  fire, 
Crouched  on  the  ground,  a  crone,  close-veiled,  of  stature 

huge, 

Not  like  to  one  asleep,  but  as  absorbed  in  thought ! 
With  accent  of  command  I  summon  her  to  work, 
The  stewardess  in  her  surmising,  who  perchance 
My   spouse,   departing  hence,   with   foresight   there   had 

placed ; 

Yet,  closely  muffled  up,  still  sits  she,  motionless; 
At  length,  upon  my  threat,  up-lifts  she  her  right  arm, 
As  though  from  hearth  and  hall  she  motioned  me  away. 
Wrathful  from  her  I  turn,  and  forthwith  hasten  out, 


458  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Toward  the  steps,  whereon  aloft  the  Thalamos 
Rises  adorned,  thereto  the  treasure-house  hard  by; 
When,  on  a  sudden,  starts  the  wonder  from  the  floor; 
Barring  with  lordly  mien  my  passage,  she  herself 
In  haggard  height  displays,  with  hollow  eyes,  blood-grimed, 
An  aspect  weird  and  strange,  confounding  eye  and  thought. 
Yet  speak  I  to  the  winds ;  for  language  all  in  vain 
Creatively  essays  to  body  forth  such  shapes. 
There  see  herself!     The  light  she  ventures  to  confront! 
Here  are  we  master,  till  the  lord  and  monarch  comes ; 
The  ghastly  brood  of  Night  doth  Phoebus,  beauty's  friend, 
Back  to  their  caverns  drive,  or  them  he  subjugates. 

[PHOBKYAS  stepping   on  the   threshold,  between  the 
door-posts.] 

CHORUS 

Much  have  I  lived  through,  although  my  tresses 
Youthfully  waver  still  round  my  temples; 
Manifold  horrors  have  mine  eyes  witnessed; 
Warfare's  dire  anguish,  Ilion's  night, 
When  it  fell; 

Through  the  o'erclouded,  dust  over-shadow 'd 
Tumult  of  war,  to  gods  have  I  hearken 'd, 
Fearfully  shouting;  hearken 'd  while  discord's 
Brazen  voices  clang  through  the  field 
Rampart-wards. 

Ah,  yet  standing  were  Ilion's 
Ramparts ;  nathless  the  glowing  flames 
Shot  from  neighbor  to  neighbor  roof, 
Ever  spreading  from  here  and  there, 
With  their  tempest's  fiery  blast, 
Over  the  night-darkened  city. — 

Flying,  saw  I  through  smoke  and  glare, 
And  the  flash  of  the  tongued  flames, 
Dreadful,  threatening  gods  draw  near; 
Wondrous  figures,  of  giant  mould, 
Onward  striding  through  the  weird 
Gloom  of  fire-luminous  vapor. 


FAUST  — PART  H  459 

Saw  I  them,  or  did  my  mind, 
Anguish-torn,  itself  body  forth 
Phantoms  so  terrible  —  never  more 
Can  I  tell;  but  that  I  this 
Horrible  shape  with  eyes  behold, 
This  of  a  surety  know  I! 
Yea,  with  my  hands  could  clutch  it  even, 
Did  not  fear,  from  the  perilous 
Venture,  ever  withhold  me. 

Tell  me,  of  Phorkyas' 

Daughters  which  art  thou? 

For  to  that  family 

Thee  must  I  liken. 

Art  thou,  may  be,  one  of  the  gray-born! 

One  eye  only,  and  but  one  tooth 

Using  still  alternately? 

One  of  the  Graiae  art  thou? 

Darest  thou,  Horror, 

Thus  beside  beauty, 

Or  to  the  searching  glance 

Phrebus'  unveil  thee? 

Nathless  step  thou  forward  undaunted; 

For  the  horrible  sees  he  not, 

As  his  hallowed  glances  yet 

Never  gazed  upon  shadows. 

But  a  tragical  fate,  alas, 

Us,  poor  mortals,  constrains  to  bear 

Anguish  of  vision,  unspeakable, 

Which  the  contemptible,  ever-detestable, 

Doth  in  lovers  of  beauty  wake ! 

Yea,  so  hearken  then,  if  thou  dar'st 

Us  to  encounter,  hear  our  curse, 

Hark  to  each  imprecation's  threat, 

Out  of  the  curse-breathing  lips  of  the  happy  ones, 

Who  by  the  gods  created  are! 


460  THE  GEEMAN  CLASSICS 

PHOKKYAS 

Trite  is  the  word,  yet  high  and  true  remains  the  sense : 
That  Shame  and  Beauty  ne'er  together,  hand  in  hand, 
Their  onward  way  pursue,  earth's  verdant  path  along. 
Deep-rooted  in  these  twain  dwelleth  an  ancient  grudge, 
So  that,  where  'er  they  happen  on  their  way  to  meet, 
Upon  her  hated  rival  turneth  each  her  back; 
Then  onward  speeds  her  course  with  greater  vehemence, 
Shame  filled  with  sorrow,  Beauty  insolent  of  mood, 
Till  her  at  length  embraces  Orcus'  hollow  night, 
Unless  old  age  erewhile  her  haughtiness  hath  tamed. 
You  find  I  now,  ye  wantons,  from  a  foreign  shore, 
With  insolence  o'erflowing,  like  the  clamorous  flight 
Of  cranes,  with  shrilly  scream  that  high  above  our  heads, 
A  long  and  moving  cloud,  croaking  send  down  their  noise, 
Which  the  lone  pilgrim  lures  wending  his  silent  way, 
Aloft  to  turn  his  gaze;  yet  on  their  course  they  fare, 
He  also  upon  his :  so  will  it  be  with  us. 

Who  are  ye  then,  that  thus  around  the  monarch's  house, 
With  Maenad  rage,  ye  dare  like  drunken  ones  to  rave  ? 
Who  are  ye  then  that  ye  the  house's  stewardess 
Thus  bay,  like  pack  of  hounds  hoarsely  that  bay  the  moon  ? 
Think  ye,  'tis  hid  from  me,  the  race  whereof  ye  are! 
Thou  youthful,  war-begotten,  battle-nurtured  brood, 
Lewd  and  lascivious  thou,  seducers  and  seduced, 
Unnerving  both,  the  soldier's  and  the  burgher's  strength! 
Seeing  your  throng,  to  me  a  locust-swarm  ye  seem, 
Which,  settling  down,  conceals  the  young  green  harvest- 
field. 

Wasters  of  others'  toil!  ye  dainty  revellers, 
Destroyers  in  its  bloom  of  all  prosperity! 
Thou  conquer 'd  merchandise,  exchanged  and  marketed! 

HELENA 

Who  in  the  mistress*  presence  chides  her  handmaidens, 
Audacious,  doth  o'erstep  her  household  privilege; 
For  her  alone  beseems,  the  praise-worthy  to  praise, 


FAUST  — PAET  II  461 

As  also  that  to  punish  which  doth  merit  blame. 

Moreover  with  the  service  am  I  well-content, 

Which  these  have  rendered  me,  what  time  proud  Ilion's 

strength 

Beleaguer 'd  stood,  and  fell  and  sank;  nor  less  indeed 
When  we,  of  our  sea-voyage  the  dreary  changeful  woe 
Endured,  where  commonly  each  thinks  but  of  himself. 
Here  also  I  expect  the  like  from  this  blithe  train ; 
Not  what  the  servant  is,  we  ask,  but  how  he  serves. 
Therefore  be  silent  thou,  and  snarl  at  them  no  more ! 
If  thou  the  monarch's  house  till  now  hast  guarded  well, 
Filling  the  mistress '  place,  that  for  thy  praise  shall  count ; 
But  now  herself  is  come,  therefore  do  thou  retire, 
Lest  chastisement  be  thine,  instead  of  well-earn 'd  meed! 

PHORKYAS 

The  menial  train  to  threat,  a  sacred  right  remains, 
Which  the  illustrious  spouse  of  heaven-favor 'd  lord 
Through  many  a  year  doth  earn  of  prudent  governance. 
Since  that,  now  recognized,  thy  ancient  place  as  queen, 
And  mistress  of  the  house,  once  more  thou  dost  resume, 
The  long-time  loosen 'd  reins  grasp  thou;  be  ruler  here, 
And  in  possession  take  the  treasures,  us  with  them ! 
Me  before  all  protect,  who  am  the  elder-born, 
From  this  young  brood,  who  seem,  thy  swan-like  beauty 

near, 
But  as  a  basely  winged  flock  of  cackling  geese ! 

LEADER  OF  THE  CHORUS 

How  hideous  beside  beauty  showeth  hideousness ! 

PHORKYAS 

How  foolish  by  discretion's  side  shows  foolishness! 

[Henceforth  the  choristers  respond  in  turn,  stepping 
forth  singly  from  the  chorus.] 

FIRST  CHORISTER 

Tell  us  of  Father  Erebus,  tell  us  of  Mother  Night! 

PHORKYAS 

Speak  thou  of  Scylla,  speak  of  her,  thy  sister-born! 


462  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

SECOND  CHORISTER 

From  thy  ancestral  tree  springs  many  a  monster  forth. 

PHORKYAS 

To  Orcus  hence,  away !     Seek  thou  thy  kindred  there ! 

THIRD  CHORISTER 

Who  yonder  dwell,  in  sooth,  for  thee  are  far  too  young. 

PHORKYAS 

Tiresias,  the  hoary,  go,  make  love  to  him ! 

FOURTH  CHORISTER 

Orion's  nurse  of  old,  was  thy  great-grand-daughter. 

PHORKYAS 

Harpies,  so  I  suspect,  did  rear  thee  up  in  filth. 

FIFTH  CHORISTER 

Thy  cherished  meagreness,  whereon  dost  nourish  thatt 

PHORKYAS 

Tis  not  with  blood,  for  which  so  keenly  thou  dost  thirst. 

SIXTH  CHORISTER 

For  corpses  dost  thou  hunger,  loathsome  corpse  thyself! 

PHORKYAS 

Within  thy  shameless  jaw  the  teeth  of  vampires  gleam. 

SEVENTH  CHORISTER 

Thine  I  should  stop  were  I  to  tell  thee  who  thou  art. 

PHORKYAS 

First  do  thou  name  thyself ;  the  riddle  then  is  solved. 

HELENA 

Not  wrathful,  but  in  grief,  step  I  between  you  now, 

Forbidding  such  alternate  quarrel 's  angry  noise ; 

For  to  the  ruler  naught  more  hurtful  can  befall, 

Than,  'mong  his  trusty  servants,  sworn  and  secret  strife ; 

The  echo  of  his  mandate  then  to  him  no  more 

In  swift  accomplished  deed  responsively  returns ; 

No,  stormful  and  self-wilPd,  it  rages  him  around, 

The  self -bewilder 'd  one,  and  chiding  still  in  vain. 


FAUST  —  PAKT  II  463 

Nor  this  alone;  ye  have  in  rude  unmanner'd  wrath 

Unblessed  images  of  dreadful  shapes  evoked, 

Which  so  encompass  me,  that  whirl 'd  I  feel  myself 

To  Orcus  down,  despite  these  my  ancestral  fields. 

Is  it  remembrance  ?     Was  it  frenzy  seized  on  me  ? 

Was  I  all  that?  and  am  I?  shall  I  henceforth  be 

The  dread  and  phantom-shape  of  those  town-wasting  ones? 

The  maidens  quail :  but  thou,  the  eldest,  thou  dost  stand, 

Calm  and  unmoved ;  speak,  then,  to  me  some  word  of  sense ! 

PHOBKYAS 

Who  of  long  years  recalls  the  fortune  manifold, 
To  him  heaven's  highest  favor  seems  at  last  a  dream. 
But  thou,  so  highly  favored,  past  all  bound  or  goal, 
Saw'st,  in  thy  life-course,  none  but  love-inflamed  men, 
Kindled  by  impulse  rash  to  boldest  enterprise. 
Theseus  by  passion  stirred  full  early  seized  on  thee, 
A  man  of  glorious  form,  and  strong  as  Heracles. 

HELENA 

Forceful  he  bore  me  off,  a  ten-year  slender  roe, 
And  in  Aphidnus'  keep  shut  me,  in  Attica. 

PHOEKYAS 

But  thence  full  soon  set  free,  by  Castor,  Pollux  too, 
In  marriage  wast  thou  sought  by  chosen  hero-band. 

HELENA 

Yet  hath  Patroclus,  he,  Pelides'  other  self, 
My  secret  favor  won,  as  willingly  I  own. 

PHOBKYAS 

But  thee  thy  father  hath  to  Menelaus  wed, 
Bold  rover  of  the  sea,  and  house-sustainer  too. 

HELENA 

His  daughter  gave  he,  gave  to  him  the  kingdom's  sway; 
And  from  our  wedded  union  sprang  Hermione. 

PHOBKYAS 

But  while  he  strove  afar,  for  Crete,  his  heritage, 
To  thee,  all  lonely,  came  an  all  too  beauteous  guest. 


464  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

HELENA 

Wherefore  the  time  recall  of  that  half-widowhood, 
And  what  destruction  dire  to  me  therefrom  hath  grown ! 

PHOEKYAS 

That  voyage  unto  me,  a  free-born  dame  of  Crete, 
Hath  also  capture  brought,  and  weary  servitude. 

HELENA 

As  stewardess  forthwith,  he  did  appoint  thee  here, 
With  much  intrusted, —  fort  and  treasure  boldly  won. 

PHOBKYAS 

All  which  thou  didst  forsake,  by  Ilion's  tower-girt  town 
Allured,  and  by  the  joys,  the  exhaustless  joys  of  love. 

HELENA 

Remind  me  not  of  joys:     No,  an  infinitude 

Of  all  too  bitter  woe  o'erwhelm'd  my  heart  and  brain. 

PHORKYAS 

Nathless  'tis  said  thou  didst  in  two-fold  shape  appear; 
Seen  within  Ilion's  walls,  and  seen  in  Egypt  too. 

HELENA 

Confuse  thou  not  my  brain,  distraught  and  desolate! 
Here  even,  who  I  am  in  sooth  I  cannot  tell. 

PHORKYAS 

'Tis  also  said,  from  out  the  hollow  shadow-dream, 
Achilles,  passion-fired,  hath  joined  himself  to  thee, 
Whom  he  hath  loved  of  old,  'gainst  all  resolves  of  Fate. 

HELENA 

As  phantom  I  myself,  to  him  a  phantom  bound ; 
A  dream  it  was  —  thus  e  'en  the  very  words  declare. 
I  faint,  and  to  myself  a  phantom  I  become. 

[She  sinks  into  the  arms  of  the  semi-chorus.] 

CHORUS 

Silence !     Silence ! 

False  seeing  one,  false  speaking  one,  thou! 
Through  thy  horrible,  single-tooth 'd  lips, 


FAUST  — PART  n  465 

Ghastly,  what  exhaleth 

From  such  terrible  loathsome  gulf! 

For  the  malignant  one,  kindliness  feigning, 

Rage  of  wolf  'neath  the  sheep's  woolly  fleece, 

Far  more  terrible  is  unto  me  than 

Jaws  of  the  hound  three-headed. 

Anxiously  watching  stand  we  here : 

When!     How?     Where  of  such  malice 

Bursteth  the  tempest 

From  this  deep-lurking  brood  of  Hell? 

Now,  'stead  of  friendly  words,  freighted  with  comfort, 

Lethe-bestowing,  gracious  and  mild, 

Thou  art  summoning  from  times  departed, 

Thoughts  of  the  past  most  hateful, 

Overshadowing  not  alone 

All  sheen  gilding  the  present, 

Also  the  future's 

Mildly  glimmering  light  of  hope. 

Silence !     Silence ! 
That  fair  Helena's  soul, 
Ready  e'en  now  to  take  flight, 
Still  may  keep,  yea  firmly  keep 
The  form  of  all  forms,  the  loveliest, 
Ever  illumined  of  old  by  the  sun. 

[HELENA  has  revived,  and  again  stands  in  the  midst.] 
********** 

( The  scene  is  entirely  changed.  Close  arbors  recline  against 
a  series  of  rocky  caverns.  A  shady  grove  extends  to 
the  base  of  the  encircling  rocks.  FAUST  and  HELENA 
are  not  seen.  The  CHORUS  lies  sleeping,  scattered  here 

and  there.) 

PHOBKYAS 

How  long  these  maids  have  slept,  in  sooth  I  cannot  tell ; 
Or  whether  they  have  dreamed  what  I  before  mine  eyes 
Saw  bright  and  clear,  to  me  is  equally  unknown. 
So  wake  I  them.     Amazed  the  younger  folks  shall  be, 
Ye  too,  ye  bearded  ones,  who  sit  below  and  wait, 

VOL.  1  —  30 


466  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Hoping  to  see  at  length  these  miracles  resolved. 
Arise!     Arise!     And  shake  quickly  your  crisped  locks! 
Shake  slumber  from  your  eyes !     Blink  not,  and  list  to  me ! 

CHORUS 
Only  speak,  relate,  and  tell  us,  what  of  wonderful  hath 

chanced ! 
We  more  willingly  shall  hearken  that  which  we  cannot 

believe ; 
For  we  are  aweary,  weary,  gazing  on  these  rocks  around. 

PHORKYAS 
Children,  how,  already  weary,  though  you  scarce  have 

rubbed  your  eyes? 
Hearken  then!     Within  these  caverns,  in  these  grottoes, 

in  these  bowers, 

Shield  and  shelter  have  been  given,  as  to  lover-twain  idyllic, 
To  our  lord  and  to  our  lady  — 

CHORUS 

How,  within  thereT 

PHORKYAS 

Yea,  secluded 

From  the  world;  and  me,  me  only,  they  to  secret  service 
called. 

Highly  honored  stood  I  near  them,  yet,  as  one  in  trust 
beseemeth, 

Bound  I  gazed  on  other  objects,  turning  hither,  turning 
thither, 

Sought  for  roots,  for  barks  and  mosses,  with  their  prop- 
erties acquainted; 

And  they  thus  remained  alone. 

CHORUS 
Thou  would  'st  make  believe  that  yonder,  world- wide  spaces 

lie  within, 
Wood  and  meadow,  lake  and  brooklet;  what  strange  fable 

spinnest  thou! 


FAUST  —  PAET  H  467 

PHORKYAS 

Yea,  in  sooth,  ye  inexperienced,  there  lie  regions  undis- 
covered : 
Hall  on  hall,  and  court  on  court;  in  my  musings  these  I 

track. 
Suddenly  a  peal  of  laughter  echoes  through  the  cavern 'd 

spaces ; 

In  I  gaze,  a  boy  is  springing  from  the  bosom  of  the  woman 
To  the  man,  from  sire  to  mother:  the  caressing  and  the 

fondling, 
All  love's  foolish  playfulnesses,  mirthful  cry  and  shout  of 

rapture, 

Alternating,  deafen  me. 
Naked,  without  wings,  a  genius,  like  a  faun,  with  nothing 

bestial, 
On  the  solid  ground  he  springeth;  but  the  ground,  with 

counter-action, 
Up   to   ether   sends  him  flying;  with  the   second,  third 

rebounding 

Touches  he  the  vaulted  roof. 
Anxiously  the  mother  calleth:     Spring  amain,  and  at  thy 

pleasure ; 

But  beware,  think  not  of  flying,  unto  thee  is  flight  denied. 
And  so  warns  the  faithful  father :     In  the  earth  the  force 

elastic 
Lies,  aloft  that  sends  thee  bounding;  let  thy  toe  but  touch 

the  surface, 
Like  the  son  of  earth,  Antaeus,  straightway  is  thy  strength 

renewed. 
And  so  o'er  these  rocky  masses,  on  from  dizzy  ledge  to 

ledge, 

Leaps  he  ever,  hither,  thither,  springing  like  a  stricken  ball. 
But  in  cleft  of  rugged  cavern  suddenly  from  sight  he 

vanished ; 
And  now  lost  to  us  he  seemeth,  mother  waileth,  sire  con- 

soleth, 


468  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Anxiously  I  shrug  my  shoulders.     But  again,  behold,  what 

vision ! 
Lie  there  treasures  hidden  yonder?     Raiment  broidered 

o'er  with  flowers 
He  becomingly  hath  donned; 
Tassels  from  his  arms  are  waving,  ribbons  flutter  on  his 

bosom, 

In  his  hand  the  lyre  all-golden,  wholly  like  a  tiny  Phoebus, 
Boldly  to  the  edge  he  steppeth,  to  the  precipice ;  we  wonder, 
And  the  parents,  full  of  rapture,  cast  them  on  each  other's 

heart ; 
For  around  his  brow  what  splendor!     Who  can  tell  what 

there  is  shining? 

Gold-work  is  it,  or  the  flaming  of  surpassing  spirit-power? 
Thus  he  moveth,  with  such  gesture,  e'en  as  boy  himself 

announcing 
Future  master  of  all  beauty,  through  whose  limbs,  whose 

every  member, 

Flow  the  melodies  eternal :  and  so  shall  ye  hearken  to  him, 
And  so  shall  ye  gaze  upon  him,  to  your  special  wonderment. 

CHORUS 

This  call 'at  thou  marvelous, 
Daughter  of  Greta? 
Unto  the  bard's  pregnant  word 
Hast  thou  perchance  never  listened  T 
Hast  thou  not  heard  of  Ionia's, 
Ne'er  been  instructed  in  Hellas' 
Legends,  from  ages  primeval, 
Godlike,  heroical  treasure? 
All,  that  still  happeneth 
Now  in  the  present, 
Sorrowful  echo  'tis, 
Of  days  ancestral,  more  noble ; 
Equals  not  in  sooth  thy  story 
That  which  beautiful  fiction, 
Than  truth  more  worthy  of  credence, 
Chanted  hath  of  Maia's  offspring! 


FAUST  — PART  II  459 

This  so  shapely  and  potent,  yet 
Scarcely-born  delicate  nursling, 
Straight  have  his  gossiping  nurses 
Folded  in  purest  swaddling  fleece, 
Fastened  in  costly  swathings, 
With  their  irrational  notions. 
Potent  and  shapely,  nevertheless, 
Draws  the  rogue  his  flexible  limbs, 
Body  firm  yet  elastic, 
Craftily  forth;  the  purple  shell, 
Him  so  grievously  binding, 
Leaving  quietly  in  its  place; 
As  the  perfected  butterfly, 
From  the  rigid  chrysalid, 
Pinion  unfolding,  rapidly  glides, 
Boldly  and  wantonly  sailing  through 
Sun-impregnated  ether. 

So  he,  too,  the  most  dextrous, 

That  to  robbers  and  scoundrels, 

Yea,  and  to  all  profit-seekers, 

He  a  favoring  god  might  be, 

This  he  straightway  made  manifest, 

Using  arts  the  most  cunning. 

Swift  from  the  ruler  of  ocean  he 

Steals  the  trident,  yea,  e'en  from  Ares 

Steals  the  sword  from  the  scabbard; 

Arrow  and  bow  from  Phoebus  too, 

Also  his  tongs  from  Hephaestos: 

Even  Zeus',  the  father's,  bolt, 

Him  had  fire  not  scared,  he  had  ta'en. 

Eros  also  worsted  he, 

In  limb-grappling,  wrestling  match; 

Stole  from  Cypria  as  she  caressed  him, 

From  her  bosom,  the  girdle. 


470  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

(An  exquisite,  purely  melodious  lyre-music  resounds  from 
the  cave.  All  become  attentive,  and  appear  soon  to  be 
inwardly  moved;  henceforth,  to  the  pause  indicated, 
there  is  a  full  musical  accompaniment.) 

PHORKYAS 

Hark  those  notes  so  sweetly  sounding; 
Cast  aside  your  fabled  lore : 
Gods,  in  olden  time  abounding, — 
Let  them  go !  their  day  is  o  'er. 

None  will  comprehend  your  singing; 
Nobler  theme  the  age  requires: 
From  the  heart  must  flow,  up-springing, 
What  to  touch  the  heart  aspires. 

[She  retires  behind  the  rock.] 

CHORUS 

To  these  tones,  so  sweetly  flowing, 
Dire  one !  dost  incline  thine  ears, 
They  in  us,  new  health  bestowing, 
Waken  now  the  joy  of  tears. 

Vanish  may  the  sun's  clear  shining, 
In  our  soul  if  day  arise, 
In  our  heart  we,  unrepining, 
Find  what  the  whole  world  denies. 

(HELENA,   FAUST,   EUPHORION   in   the    costume   indicated 

above) 

EUPHORION 

Songs  of  childhood  hear  ye  ringing, 
Your  own  mirth  it  seems;  on  me 
Gazing,  thus  in  measure  springing, 
Leap  your  parent-hearts  with  glee. 

HELENA 

Love,  terrestrial  bliss  to  capture, 
Two  in  noble  union  mates; 
But  to  wake  celestial  rapture, 
He  a  precious  three  creates. 


FAUST  — PART  II  471 

FAUST 

All  hath  been  achieved.     For  ever 
I  am  thine,  and  mine  them  art, 
Blent  our  beings  are  —  oh  never 
May  our  present  joy  depart ! 

CHORUS 

Many  a  year  of  purest  pleasure, 
In  the  mild  light  of  their  boy, 
Crowns  this  pair  in  richest  measure. 
Me  their  union  thrills  with  joy! 

EUPHORION 
Now  let  me  gambol, 
Joyfully  springing! 
Upward  to  hasten 
Through  ether  winging, 
This  wakes  my  yearning, 
This  prompts  me  now! 

FAUST 

Gently!  son,  gently! 
Be  not  so  daring! 
Lest  ruin  seize  thee 
Past  all  repairing, 
And  our  own  darling 
Whelm  us  in  woe! 

EUPHORION 

From  earth  my  spirit 
Still  upward  presses; 
Let  go  my  hands  now, 
Let  go  my  tresses, 
Let  go  my  garments, 
Mine  every  one! 

HELENA 

To  whom,  bethink  thee, 
Now  thou  pertainest! 
Think  how  it  grieves  us 


472  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

When  thou  disdainest 

Mine,  thine,  and  his, —  the  all 

That  hath  been  won. 

CHOKUS 

Soon  shall,  I  fear  me, 
The  bond  be  undone ! 

HELENA  and  FAUST 

Curb  for  thy  parents'  sake, 
To  us  returning, 
Curb  thy  importunate 
Passionate  yearning! 
Make  thou  the  rural  plain 
Tranquil  and  bright. 

EUPHORION 
But  to  content  you 
Stay  I  my  flight. 
(Winding  among  the  CHORUS  and  drawing  them  forth  to 

dance) 

Round  this  gay  troop  I  flee 
With  impulse  light. 
Say  is  the  melody, 
Say  is  the  movement  right  f 

HELENA 

Yea,  'tis  well  done;  advance, 
Lead  to  the  graceful  dance 
These  maidens  coy! 

FAUST 

Could  I  the  end  but  see ! 
Me  this  mad  revelry 
Pills  with  annoy. 

EUPHORION  and  the  CHOBUS 
(Dancing  and  singing,  they  move  about  in  interweaving 

lines) 

Moving  thine  arms  so  fair 
With  graceful  motion, 
Tossing  thy  curling  hair 


FAUST  — PAKT  II  473 

In  bright  commotion; 
When  thou  with  foot  so  light 
Over  the  earth  doth  skim, 
Thither  and  back  in  flight, 
Moving  each  graceful  limb; 
Thou  hast  attained  thy  goal, 
Beautiful  child, 
All  hearts  thou  hast  beguiled, 
Won  every  soul.         [Pause.] 

EUPHORION 

Gracefully  sporting, 
Light-footed  roes, 
New  frolic  courting 
Scorn  ye  repose: 
I  am  the  hunter, 
Ye  are  the  game. 

CHORUS 

Us  wilt  thou  capture, 
Urge  not  thy  pace; 
For  it  were  rapture 
Thee  to  embrace, 
Beautiful  creature, 
This  our  sole  aim ! 

EUPHORION 

Through  trees  and  heather, 
Bound  all  together, 
O'er  stock  and  stone! 
Whate'er  is  lightly  won, 
That  I  disdain ; 
What  I  by  force  obtain, 
Prize  I  alone. 

HELENA  and  FAUST 

What  vagaries,  sense  confounding ! 
Naught  of  measure  to  be  hoped  for! 
Like  the  blare  of  trumpet  sounding, 
Over  vale  and  forest  ringing. 
What  a  riot!     What  a  crv! 


474  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

CHORUS  (entering  quickly  one  by  one) 
Us  he  passed  with  glance  scorn-laden; 
Hastily  still  onward  springing, 
Bearing  now  the  wildest  maiden 
Of  our  troop,  he  draweth  nigh. 

EUPHORIC  N  (bearing  a  young  maiden) 
I  this  wilful  maid  and  coy 
Carry  to  enforced  caress ; 
For  my  pleasure,  for  my  joy 
Her  resisting  bosom  press, 
Kiss  her  rebel  lips,  that  so 
She  my  power  and  will  may  know. 

MAIDEN 

Loose  me !  in  this  frame  residing, 
Burns  a  spirit's  strength  and  might; 
Strong  as  thine,  our  will  presiding 
Swerveth  not  with  purpose  light. 
Thinkest,  on  thy  strength  relying, 
That  thou  hast  me  in  a  strait? 
Hold  me,  fool!  thy  strength  defying, 
For  my  sport,  I'll  scorch  thee  yet! 

[She  flames  up  and  flashes  into  the  air.] 
Follow  where  light  breezes  wander, 
Follow  to  rude  caverns  yonder, 
Strive  thy  vanish 'd  prey  to  net! 

EUPHORION"  (shaking  off  the  last  flames) 

Rocks  all  around  I  see, 

Thickets  and  woods  among! 

Why  should  they  prison  met 

Still  am  I  fresh  and  young. 

Tempests,  they  loudly  roar, 

Billows,  they  lash  the  shore ; 

Both  far  away  I  hear; 

Would  I  were  near ! 

[He  springs  higher  up  the  rock.] 


FAUST  — PART  II  475 

HELENA,  FAUST,  and  CHORUS 

Wouldst  thou  chamois-like  aspire? 
Us  thy  threaten 'd  fall  dismays! 

EUPHORION 

Higher  must  I  climb,  yet  higher, 
"Wider  still  must  be  my  gaze. 
Know  I  now,  where  I  stand: 
'Midst  of  the  sea-girt  land, 
'Midst  of  great  Pelops'  reign, 
Kin  both  to  earth  and  main. 

CHORUS 

Canst  not  near  copse  and  wold 
Tarry,  then  yonder, 
Ripe  figs  and  apple-gold 
Seeking,  we'll  wander; 
Grapes  too  shall  woo  our  hand, 
Grapes  from  the  mantling  vine. 
Ah,  let  this  dearest  land, 
Dear  one,  be  thine! 

EUPHORION 

Dream  ye  of  peaceful  day? 
Dream  on,  while  dream  ye  mayl 
War!  is  the  signal  cry, 
Hark!  cries  of  victory! 

CHORUS 

War  who  desireth 
While  peace  doth  reign, 
To  joy  aspireth 
Henceforth  in  vain. 

EUPHORION 

All  whom  this  land  hath  bred, 
Through  peril  onward  led, 
Free,  of  undaunted  mood, 
Still  lavish  of  their  blood, 
With  soul  untaught  to  yield, 
Rending  each  chain! 


476  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

To  such  the  bloody  field, 

Brings  glorious  gain. 

CHOBUS 

High  he  soars, —  mark,  upward  gazing,— 
And  to  us  not  small  doth  seem: 
Victor-like,  in  harness  blazing, 
As  of  steel  and  brass  the  gleam! 

EUPHOBION 

Not  on  moat  or  wall  relying, 
On  himself  let  each  one  rest! 
Firmest  stronghold,  all  defying, 
Ever  is  man's  iron  breast! 
Dwell  for  aye  unconquered  would  yet 
Arm,  by  no  vain  dreams  beguiled! 
Amazons  your  women  should  be, 
And  a  hero  every  child! 
CHOBUS 

O  hallowed  Poesie, 
Heavenward  still  soareth  she! 
Shine  on,  thou  brightest  star, 
Farther  and  still  more  far! 
Yet  us  she  still  doth  cheer; 
Even  her  voice  to  hear, 
Joyful  we  are. 

EUPHOBION 

Child  no  more;  a  stripling  bearing 
Arms  appears,  with  valor  fraught: 
Leagued  with  the  strong,  the  free,  the  daring, 
In  soul  already  who  hath  wrought. 
Hence  away! 
No  delay! 
There  where  glory  may  be  sought. 

HELENA  and  FAUST 

Scarcely  summoned  to  life's  gladness, 
Scarcely  given  to  day's  bright  gleam, 
Downward  now  to  pain  and  sadness 


FAUST  —  PAKT  H  477 

Wouldst  thou  rush,  from  heights  supreme  1 

Are  then  we 

Naught  to  thee? 

Is  our  gracious  bond  a  dream? 

EUPHOKION 

Hark!     What  thunders  seaward  rattle, 
Echoing  from  vale  to  vale ! 
'Mid  dust  and  foam,  in  shock  of  battle, 
Throng  on  throng,  to  grief  and  bale! 
And  the  command 
Is,  firm  to  stand ; 
Death  to  face,  nor  ever  quail. 

HELENA,  FAUST,  and  CHORUS 

Oh  what  horror!     Hast  thou  told  it! 
Is  then  death  for  thee  decreed! 

EUPHORION 

From  afar  shall  I  behold  it? 

No!     I'll  share  the  care  and  need! 

HELENA,  FAUST  and  CHORUS 

Rashness  to  peril  brings, 
And  deadly  fate! 

EUPHORION 

Yet  —  see  a  pair  of  wings 
Unfoldeth  straight! 
Thither — I  must,  I  must — 
Grudge  not  my  flight! 

[He  casts  himself  into  the  air;  his  garments  support  him 
for  a  moment;  his  head  flames,  a  trail  of  light  follows 

him-l  CHORUS 

Icarus !    Icarus ! 
Oh  woeful  sight! 

(A  beautiful  youth  falls  at  the  parents'  feet;  we  imagine 
that  in  the  dead  we  recognize  a  well-known  form;  yet 
suddenly  the  corporeal  part  vanishes;  the  aureole  ris 
like  a  comet  to  heaven;  dress,  mantle,  and  lyre  remaw 
lying  on  the  ground.) 


478  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

HELENA  and  FAUST 

Follows  on  joy  new-born 
Anguishful  moan! 

EUPHORION'S  VOICE  (from  the  depths) 
Leave  me  in  realms  forlorn, 
Mother,  not  all  alone!  [Pause.] 

CHORUS  (dirge) 

Not  alone  —  for  hope  we  cherish, 
Where  thou  bidest  thee  to  know! 
Ah,  from  daylight  though  thou  perish, 
Ne  'er  a  heart  will  let  thee  go ! 
Scarce  we  venture  to  bewail  thee, 
Envying  we  sing  thy  fate : 
Did  sunshine  cheer,  or  storm  assail  thee, 
Song  and  heart  were  fair  and  great. 

Earthly  fortune  was  thy  dower, 
Lofty  lineage,  ample  might, 
Ah,  too  early  lost,  thy  flower 
Withered  by  untimely  blight ! 
Glance  was  thine  the  world  discerning, 
Sympathy  with  every  wrong, 
Woman's  love  for  thee  still  yearning, 
And  thine  own  enchanting  song. 

Yet  the  beaten  path  forsaking, 
Thou  didst  run  into  the  snare ; 
So  with  law  and  usage  breaking, 
On  thy  wilful  course  didst  fare ; 
Yet  at  last  high  thought  has  given 
To  thy  noble  courage  weight, 
For  the  loftiest  thou  has  striven  — 
It  to  win  was  not  thy  fate. 

Who  does  win  it?    Unreplying, 
Destiny  the  question  hears, 
When  the  bleeding  people  lying, 
Dumb  with  grief,  no  cry  uprears!  — 


FAUST  —  PART  II  479 

Now  new  songs  chant  forth,  in  sorrow 
Deeply  bowed  lament  no  more ; 
Them  the  earth  brings  forth  tomorrow, 
As  she  brought  them  forth  of  yore ! 

[Full  pause.    The  music  ceases.] 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 
OPEN  COUNTRY 

WANDERER 

Yes,  'tis  they,  their  branches  rearing, 

Hoary  lindens,  strong  in  age;  — 

There  I  find  them,  reappearing, 

After  my  long  pilgrimage ! 

'Tis  the  very  spot;  —  how  gladly 

Yonder  hut  once  more  I  see, 

By  the  billows  raging  madly, 

Cast  ashore,  which  sheltered  me! 

My  old  hosts,  I  fain  would  greet  them, 

Helpful  they,  an  honest  pair; 

May  I  hope  today  to  meet  them? 

Even  then  they  aged  were. 

Worthy  folk,  in  God  believing! 

Shall  I  knock?  or  raise  my  voice! 

Hail  to  you  if,  guest  receiving, 

In  good  deeds  ye  still  rejoice! 

BAUCIS  (a  very  aged  woman) 
Stranger  dear,  beware  of  breaking 
My  dear  husband's  sweet  repose! 
Strength  for  brief  and  feeble  waking 
Lengthened  sleep  on  age  bestows. 

WANDERER 

Mother,  say  then,  do  I  find  thee, 
To  receive  my  thanks  once  more, 
In  my  youth  who  didst  so  kindly, 
With  thy  spouse,  my  life  restore? 


480  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Baucis,  to  my  lips  half -dying, 
Art  thou,  who  refreshment  gave? 

[The  husband  steps  forth.] 
Thou  Philemon,  strength  who  plying, 
Snatched  my  treasure  from  the  wave? 
By  your  flames,  so  promptly  kindled, 
By  your  bell's  clear  silver  sound  — 
That  adventure,  horror-mingled, 
Hath  a  happy  issue  found. 
Forward  let  me  step,  and  gazing 
Forth  upon  the  boundless  main, 
Kneel,  and  thankful  prayers  upraising, 
Ease  of  my  full  heart  the  strain! 

[He  walks  forward  upon  the  downs.] 

PHILEMON    (to   BAUCIS) 

Haste  to  spread  the  table,  under 

The  green  leafage  of  our  trees. 

Let  him  run,  struck  dumb  with  wonder, 

Scarce  he'll  credit  what  he  sees. 

[He  follows  the  wanderer.    Standing  beside  him.] 

Where  the  billows  did  maltreat  you, 

Wave  on  wave  in  fury  rolled, 

There  a  garden  now  doth  greet  you, 

Fair  as  Paradise  of  old. 

Grown  more  aged,  as  when  stronger, 

I  could  render  aid  no  more; 

And,  as  waned  my  strength,  no  longer 

Boiled  the  sea  upon  the  shore ; 

Prudent  lords,  bold  serfs  directing, 

It  with  trench  and  dyke  restrained; 

Ocean's  rights  no  more  respecting, 

Lords  they  were,  where  he  had  reigned. 

See,  green  meadows  far  extending;  — 

Garden,  village,  woodland,  plain. 

But  return  we,  homeward  wending, 

For  the  sun  begins  to  wane. 

In  the  distance  sails  are  gliding, 


FAUST  — PAET  H 

Nightly  they  to  port  repair; 
Bird-like,  in  their  nests  confiding, 
For  a  haven  waits  them  there. 
Far  away  mine  eye  discerneth 
First  the  blue  fringe  of  the  main; 
Eight  and  left,  where'er  it  turneth, 
Spreads  the  thickly-peopled  plain. 

IN  THE  GARDEN 
The  three  at  table 
BAUCIS  (to  the  stranger) 
Art  thou  dumb?    No  morsel  raising 
To  thy  famished  lips? 

PHILEMON 

I  trow, 

He  of  wonders  so  amazing 
Fain  would  hear;  inform  him  thou. 

BAUCIS 

There  was  wrought  a  wonder  truly, 
Yet  no  rest  it  leaves  to  me ; 
Naught  in  the  affair  was  duly 
Done,  as  honest  things  should  be! 

PHILEMON 

Who  as  sinful  can  pronounce  it? 
'Twas  the  emperor  gave  the  shore;  — 
Did  the  trumpet  not  announce  it 
As  the  herald  passed  our  door? 
Footing  firm  they  first  have  planted 
Near  these  downs.    Tents,  huts,  appeared; 
O'er  the  green,  the  eye,  enchanted, 
Saw  ere  long  a  palace  reared. 

BAUCIS 

•    Shovel,  axe,  no  labor  sparing, 
Vainly  plied  the  men  by  day; 
Where  the  fires  at  night  shone  flaring, 
Stood  a  dam,  in  morning's  ray. 

VOL.  1  —  31 


482  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Still  from  human  victims  bleeding, 
Wailing  sounds  were  nightly  borne; 
Seaward  sped  the  flames,  receding; 
A  canal  appeared  at  morn! 
Godless  is  he,  naught  respecting; 
Covets  he  our  grove,  our  cot; 
Though  our  neighbor,  us  subjecting, 
Him  to  serve  will  be  our  lot. 

PHILEMON 

Yet  he  bids,  our  claims  adjusting, 
Homestead  fair  in  his  new  land. 

BAUCIS 

Earth,  from  water  saved,  mistrusting, 
On  thine  own  height  take  thy  stand. 

PHILEMON 

Let  us,  to  the  chapel  wending, 
Watch  the  sun's  last  rays  subside; 
Let  us  ring,  and  prayerful  bending, 
In  our  father's  God  confide! 

PALACE 
Spacious  ornamental  garden;  broad,  straight  canal.   FAUST 

in  extreme  old  age,  walking  about,  meditating. 
LYNCEUS,  THE  WARDER  (through  a  speaking  trumpet) 
The  sun  sinks  down,  the  ships  belated 
Rejoicing  to  the  haven  steer. 
A  stately  galley,  deeply  freighted, 
On  the  canal,  now  draweth  near; 
Her  chequer 'd  flag  the  breeze  caresses 
The  masts  unbending  bear  the  sails : 
Thee  now  the  grateful  seaman  blesses, 
Thee  at  this  moment  Fortune  hails. 

[The  bell  rings  on  the  downs.] 
FAUST  (starting) 

Accursed  bell!    Its  clamor  sending, 
Like  spiteful  shot  it  wounds  mine  ear  I 


FAUST  — PAETn  483 

Before  me  lies  my  realm  unending; 

Vexation  dogs  me  in  the  rear ; 

For  I,  these  envious  chimes  still  hearing, 

Must  at  my  narrow  bounds  repine ; 

The  linden  grove,  brown  hut  thence  peering, 

The  moldering  church,  these  are  not  mine. 

Refreshment  seek  I,  there  repairing? 

Another 's  shadow  chills  my  heart, 

A  thorn,  nor  foot  nor  vision  sparing, — 

0  far  from  hence  could  I  depart ! 

WABDEB  (as  above) 
How,  wafted  by  the  evening  gales, 
Blithely  the  painted  galley  sails; 
On  its  swift  course,  how  richly  stored  I 
Chest,  coffer,  sack,  are  heaped  aboard. 
A  splendid  galley,  richly  and  brilliantly  laden  with  the 

produce  of  foreign  climes. 
MEPHISTOPHELES.     THE  THREE  MIGHTY  COMRADES 

CHORUS 

Here  do  we  land, 
Here  are  we  now. 
Hail  to  our  lord; 
Our  patron,  thou! 
(They  disembark.    The  goods  are  brought  ashore.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

So  have  we  proved  our  worth — content 

If  we  our  patron's  praises  earn: 

With  but  two  ships  abroad  we  went, 

With  twenty  we  to  port  return. 

By  our  rich  lading  all  may  see 

The  great  successes  we  have  wrought. 

Free  ocean  makes  the  spirit  free: 

There  claims  compunction  ne  'er  a  thought  I 

A  rapid  grip  there  needs  alone; 

A  fish,  a  ship,  on  both  we  seize. 

Of  three  if  we  the  lordship  own, 


484  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

Straightway  we  hook  a  fourth  with  ease, 
Then  is  the  fifth  in  sorry  plight  — 
Who  hath  the  power,  has  still  the  right; 
The  What  is  asked  for,  not  the  How. 
Else  know  I  not  the  seaman's  art: 
War,  commerce,  piracy,  I  trow, 
A  trinity,  we  may  not  part. 

THE   THREE   MIGHTY  COMBADES 

No  thank  and  hail; 
No  hail  and  thank! 
As  were  our  cargo 
Vile  and  rank! 
Disgust  upon 
His  face  one  sees: 
The  kingly  wealth 
Doth  him  displease ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Expect  ye  now 
No  further  pay; 
For  ye  your  share 
Have  ta'en  away. 

THE   THREE   MIGHTY  COMRADES 

To  pass  the  time, 
As  was  but  fair; 
We  all  expect 
An  equal  share. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

First  range  in  order, 
Hall  on  hall, 
These  wares  so  costly, 
One  and  all! 
And  when  he  steps 
The  prize  to  view, 
And  reckons  all 
With  judgment  true, 
He'll  be  no  niggard; 


FAUST  — PART  II  485 

As  is  meet, 

Feast  after  feast 

He  '11  give  the  fleet, 

The  gay  birds  come  with  morning  tide ; 

Myself  for  them  can  best  provide. 

[The  cargo  is  removed.] 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  FAUST) 

With  gloomy  look,  with  earnest  brow 
Thy  fortune  high  receivest  thou. 
Thy  lofty  wisdom  has  been  crowned ; 
Their  limits  shore  and  sea  have  bound; 
Forth  from  the  shore,  in  swift  career, 
0  'er  the  glad  waves,  thy  vessels  steer ; 
Speak  only  from  thy  pride  of  place, 
Thine  arm  the  whole  world  doth  embrace. 
Here  it  began ;  on  this  spot  stood 
The  first  rude  cabin  formed  of  wood ; 
A  little  ditch  was  sunk  of  yore 
Where  plashes  now  the  busy  oar. 
Thy  lofty  thought,  thy  people 's  hand, 
Have  won  the  prize  from  sea  and  land. 
From  here  too  — 

FAUST 

That  accursed  here! 
It  weighs  upon  me !    Lend  thine  ear ;  — 
To  thine  experience  I  must  tell, 
With  thrust  on  thrust,  what  wounds  my  heart; 
To  bear  it  is  impossible  — 
Nor  can  I,  without  shame,  impart: 
The  old  folk  there  above  must  yield ; 
Would  that  my  seat  those  lindens  were ; 
Those  few  trees  not  mine  own,  that  field, 
Possession  of  the  world  impair. 
There  I,  wide  view  o'er  all  to  take, 
From  bough  to  bough  would  scaffolds  raise ; 
Would,  for  the  prospect,  vistas  make 
On  all  that  I  have  done  to  gaze ; 


486  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

To  see  at  once  before  me  brought 
The  master-work  of  human  thought, 
Where  wisdom  hath  achieved  the  plan, 
And  won  broad  dwelling-place  for  man. — 
Thus  are  we  tortured; — in  our  weal, 
That  which  we  lack,  we  sorely  feel ! 
The  chime,  the  scent  of  linden-bloom, 
Surround  me  like  a  vaulted  tomb. 
The  will  that  nothing  could  withstand, 
Is  broken  here  upon  the  sand: 
How  from  the  vexing  thought  be  safe? 
The  bell  is  pealing,  and  I  chafe ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Such  spiteful  chance,  'tis  natural, 
Must  thy  existence  fill  with  gall. 
Who  doubts  it !    To  each  noble  ear, 
This  clanging  odious  must  appear; 
This  cursed  ding-dong,  booming  loud, 
The  cheerful  evening-sky  doth  shroud, 
With  each  event  of  life  it  blends, 
From  birth  to  burial  it  attends, 
Until  this  mortal  life  doth  seem, 
Twixt  ding  and  dong,  a  vanished  dream! 

FAUST 

Resistance,  stubborn  selfishness, 
Can  trouble  lordliest  success, 
Till,  in  deep  angry  pain  one  must 
Grow  tired  at  last  of  being  first ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why  let  thyself  be  troubled  here  I 
Is  colonizing  not  thy  sphere? 

FAUST 

Then  go,  to  move  them  be  thy  care ! 
Thou  knowest  well  the  homestead  fair, 
I've  chosen  for  the  aged  pair  — 


FAUST  — PAET  n  487 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We  '11  bear  them  off,  and  on  new  ground 
Set  them,  ere  one  can  look  around. 
The  violence  outlived  and  past, 
Shall  a  fair  home  atone  at  last. 

[He  whistles  shrilly.] 

THE  THBEE  enter 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Come!  straight  fulfil  the  lord's  behest; 
The  fleet  tomorrow  he  will  feast. 

THE  THREE 

The  old  lord  us  did  ill  requite ; 

A  sumptuous  feast  is  ours  by  right. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (to  the  spectators) 
What  happ  'd  of  old,  here  happens  too : 
Still  Naboth's  vineyard  meets  the  view. 

(I  Kings,  xvi.) 

DEEP  NIGHT 

LYNCEUS  THE  WARDER  (on  the  watch-tower  singing) 
Keen  vision  my  birth-dower, 
I'm  placed  on  this  height, 
Still  sworn  to  the  watch-tower, 
The  world's  my  delight. 
I  gaze  on  the  distant, 
I  look  on  the  near, 
On  moon  and  on  planet, 
On  wood  and  the  deer: 
The  beauty  eternal 
In  all  things  I  see; 
And  pleased  with  myself 
All  bring  pleasure  to  me. 
Glad  eyes,  look  around  ye 
And  gaze,  for  whate'er 
The  sight  they  encounter, 
It  still  hath  been  fair! 


488  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

(Pause) 

Not  alone  for  pleasure-taking 
Am  I  planted  thus  on  high; 
What  dire  vision,  horror-waking, 
From  yon  dark  world  scares  mine  eye! 
Fiery  sparkles  see  I  gleaming 
Through  the  lindens'  two-fold  night; 
By  the  breezes  fanned,  their  beaming 
Gloweth  now  with  fiercer  light! 
Ah !  the  peaceful  hut  is  burning ; 
Stood  its  moss-grown  walls  for  years ; 
They  for  speedy  help  are  yearning  — 
And  no  rescue,  none  appears! 
Ah  the  aged  folk,  so  kindly, 
Once  so  careful  of  the  fire, 
Now,  to  smoke  a  prey,  they  blindly 
Perish,  oh  misfortune  dire ! 
'Mid  red  flames,  the  vision  dazing, 
Stands  the  moss-hut,  black  and  bare; 
From  the  hell,  so  fiercely  blazing, 
Could  we  save  the  honest  pair ! 
Lightning-like  the  fire  advances, 
'Mid  the  foliage,  'mid  the  branches; 
Withered  boughs, —  they  flicker,  burning, 
Swiftly  glow,  then  fall ;  —  ah  me ! 
Must  mine  eyes,  this  woe  discerning, 
Must  they  so  far-sighted  be ! 
Down  the  lowly  chapel  crashes 
'Neath  the  branches'  fall  and  weight; 
Winding  now,  the  pointed  flashes 
To  the  summit  climb  elate. 
Eoots  and  trunks  the  flames  have  blighted  -t 
Hollow,  purple-red,  they  glow! 
(Long  pause.    Song) 
Gone,  what  once  the  eye  delighted, 
With  the  ages  long  ago! 


FAUST  — PART  II  489 

FAUST  (on  the  balcony,  toward  the  downs) 
From  above  what  plaintive  whimper? 
"Word  and  tone  are  here  too  late! 
Wails  my  warder;  me,  in  spirit 
Grieves  this  deed  precipitate ! 
Though  in  ruin  unexpected 
Charred  now  lie  the  lindens  old, 
Soon  a  height  will  be  erected, 
Whence  the  boundless  to  behold. 
I  the  home  shall  see,  enfolding 
In  its  walls,  that  ancient  pair, 
Who,  my  gracious  care  beholding, 
Shall  their  lives  end  joyful  there. 

MEPHISTOPHELES   and   THE   THREE    (below) 

Hither  we  come  full  speed.    We  crave 
Your  pardon!    Things  have  not  gone  right! 
Full  many  a  knock  and  kick  we  gave, 
They  opened  not,  in  our  despite; 
Then  rattled  we  and  kick'd  the  more, 
And  prostrate  lay  the  rotten  door; 
We  called  aloud  with  threat  severe, 
Yet  sooth  we  found  no  listening  ear. 
And  as  in  such  case  still  befalls, 
They  heard  not,  would  not  hear  our  calls ; 
Forthwith  thy  mandate  we  obeyed, 
And  straight  for  thee  a  clearance  made. 
The  pair — their  sufferings  were  light, 
Fainting  they  sank,  and  died  of  fright. 
A  stranger,  harbor  M  there,  made  show 
Of  force,  full  soon  was  he  laid  low; 
In  the  brief  space  of  this  wild  fray, 
From  coals,  that  strewn  around  us  lay, 
The  straw  caught  fire ;  'tis  blazing  free, 
As  funeral  death-pyre  for  the  three. 

FAUST 

To  my  commandments  deaf  were  ye ! 
Exchange  I  wished,  not  robbery. 


490  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

For  this  your  wild  and  ruthless  part ;  — 
I  curse  it!    Share  it  and  depart ! 

CHORUS 

The  ancient  saw  still  rings  today: 
Force  with  a  willing  mind  obey; 
If  boldly  thou  canst  stand  the  test, 
Stake  house,  court,  life,  and  all  the  rest ! 

[Exeunt.] 

FAUST 

The  stars  their  glance  and  radiance  veil; 
Smoulders  the  sinking  fire,  a  gale 
Fans  it  with  moisture-laden  wings, 
Vapor  to  me  and  smoke  it  brings. 
Rash  mandate  —  rashly,  too,  obeyed!  — 
What  hither  sweeps  like  spectral  shade? 

MIDNIGHT 
Four  gray  women  enter 

FIRST 
My  name,  it  is  Want. 

SECOND 
And  mine,  it  is  Blame. 

THIRD 

My  name,  it  is  Care. 

FOURTH 
Need,  that  is  my  name. 

THREE  (together) 

The  door  is  fast-bolted,  we  cannot  get  in; 
The  owner  is  wealthy,  we  may  not  within. 

WANT 
There  fade  I  to  shadow. 

BLAME 

There  cease  I  to  be. 


FAUST  — PART  II  491 

NEED 

His  visage  the  pampered  still  turneth  from  me. 

CAEE 

Ye  sisters,  ye  cannot,  ye  dare  not  go  in; 
But  Care  through  the  key-hole  an  entrance  may  win. 

[CARE  disappears.] 

WANT 
Sisters,  gray  sisters,  away  let  us  glide! 

BLAME 
I  bind  myself  to  thee,  quite  close  to  thy  side. 

NEED 
And  Need  at  your  heels  doth  with  yours  blend  her  breath.* 

THE  THREE 

Fast  gather  the  clouds,  they  eclipse  star  on  star. 

Behind  there,  behind,  from  afar,  from  afar, 

There  comes  he,  our  brother,  there  cometh  he  —  Death. 

FAUST  (in  the  palace) 

Four  saw  I  come,  but  only  three  went  hence. 
Of  their  discourse  I  could  not  catch  the  sense ; 
There  fell  upon  mine  ear  a  sound  like  breath, 
Thereon  a  gloomy  rhyme-word  followed — Death; 
Hollow  the  sound,  with  spectral  horror  fraught! 
Not  yet  have  I,  in  sooth,  my  freedom  wrought ; 
Could  I  my  pathway  but  from  magic  free, 
And  quite  unlearn  the  spells  of  sorcery, 
Stood  I,  oh  nature,  man  alone  'fore  thee, 
Then  were  it  worth  the  trouble  man  to  be ! 
Such  was  I  once,  ere  I  in  darkness  sought, 
And  curses  dire,  through  words  with  error  fraught, 
Upon  myself  and  on  the  world  have  brought ; 
So  teems  the  air  with  falsehood's  juggling  brood, 
That  no  one  knows  how  them  he  may  elude ! 
If  but  one  day  shines  clear,  in  reason's  light  — 
In  spectral  dream  envelopes  us  the  night; 

*  Not  and  Tod,  the  German  equivalents  for  Need  and  Death,  form  a  rhyme. 
As  this  cannot  be  rendered  in  English,  I  have  introduced  a  slight  alteratic 
into  my  translation. 


492  THE  GEEMAN  CLASSICS 

From  the  fresh  fields,  as  homeward  we  advance  — 
There  croaks  a  bird:  what  croaks  he?  some  mischance! 
Ensnared  by  superstition,  soon  and  late; 
As  sign  and  portent,  it  on  us  doth  wait  — 
By  fear  unmanned,  we  take  our  stand  alone; 
The  portal  creaks,  and  no  one  enters, —  none. 

(Agitated) 
Is  some  one  here? 

CAEE 

The  question  prompteth,  yes ! 

FAUST 

What  art  thou  then? 

CABE 

Here,  once  for  all,  am  I. 

FAUST 

Withdraw  thyself ! 

CAKE 
My  proper  place  is  this. 

FAUST  (first  angry,  then  appeased.    Aside) 
Take  heed,  and  speak  no  word  of  sorcery. 

CABE 

Though  by  outward  ear  unheard, 
By  my  moan  the  heart  is  stirred; 
And  in  ever-changeful  guise, 
Cruel  force  I  exercise; 
On  the  shore  and  on  the  sea, 
Comrade  dire  hath  man  in  me 
Ever  found,  though  never  sought, 
Flattered,  cursed,  so  have  I  wrought. 
Hast  thou  as  yet  Care  never  known? 

FAUST 

I  have  but  hurried  through  the  world,  I  own. 
I  by  the  hair  each  pleasure  seized; 
Relinquished  what  no  longer  pleased, 
That  which  escaped  me  I  let  go, 


FAUST  — PAKT  II  493 

I've  craved,  accomplished,  and  then  craved  again; 

Thus  through  my  life  I've  storm 'd — with  might  and  main, 

Grandly,  with  power,  at  first ;  but  now  indeed, 

It  goes  more  cautiously,  with  wiser  heed. 

I  know  enough  of  earth,  enough  of  men ; 

The  view  beyond  is  barred  from  mortal  ken ; 

Fool,  who  would  yonder  peer  with  blinking  eyes, 

And  of  his  fellows  dreams  above  the  skies ! 

Firm  let  him  stand,  the  prospect  round  him  scan, 

Not  mute  the  world  to  the  true-hearted  man. 

Why  need  he  wander  through  eternity? 

What  he  can  grasp,  that  only  knoweth  he. 

So  let  him  roam  adown  earth's  fleeting  day; 

If  spirits  haunt,  let  him  pursue  his  way; 

In  joy  or  torment  ever  onward  stride, 

Though  every  moment  still  unsatisfied! 

CARE 

To  him  whom  I  have  made  mine  own 
All  profitless  the  world  hath  grown: 
Eternal  gloom  around  him  lies; 
For  him  suns  neither  set  nor  rise ; 
With  outward  senses  perfect,  whole, 
Dwell  darknesses  within  his  soul; 
Though  wealth  he  owneth,  ne'ertheless 
He  nothing  truly  can  possess. 
Weal,  woe,  become  mere  phantasy; 
He  hungers  'mid  satiety; 
Be  it  joy,  or  be  it  sorrow, 
He  postpones  it  till  the  morrow; 
Of  the  future  thinking  ever, 
Prompt  for  present  action  never. 

FAUST 

Forbear !    Thou  shalt  not  come  near  me ! 
I  will  not  hear  such  folly.    Hence ! 
Avauntl    This  evil  litany 
The  wisest  even  might  bereave  of  sense. 


494  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

CABE 

Shall  he  come  or  go?    He  ponders;  — 
All  resolve  from  him  is  taken ; 
On  the  beaten  path  he  wanders, 
Groping  on,  as  if  forsaken. 
Deeper  still  himself  he  loses, 
Everything  his  sight  abuses, 
Both  himself  and  others  hating, 
Taking  breath  —  and  suffocating, 
Without  life  —  yet  scarcely  dying, 
Not  despairing — not  relying. 
Rolling  on  without  remission: 
Loathsome  ought,  and  sad  permission, 
Now  deliverance,  now  vexation, 
Semi-sleep, — poor  recreation, 
Nail  him  to  his  place  and  wear  him, 
And  at  last  for  hell  prepare  him. 

FAUST 

Unblessed  spectres!    Ye  mankind  have  so 

Treated  a  thousand  times,  their  thoughts  deranging; 

E'en  uneventful  days  to  mar  ye  know, 

Into  a  tangled  web  of  torment  changing ! 

'Tis  hard,  I  know,  from  demons  to  get  free, 

The  mighty  spirit-bond  by  force  untying; 

Yet  Care,  I  never  will  acknowledge  thee, 

Thy  strong  in-creeping,  potency  defying. 

CABE 

Feel  it  then  now;  as  thou  shalt  find 
When  with  a  curse  from  thee  I've  wended: 
Through  their  whole  lives  are  mortals  blind  — 
So  be  thou,  Faust,  ere  life  be  ended ! 

[She  breathes  on  him.] 

FAUST  (blind) 

Deeper  and  deeper  night  is  round  me  sinking; 
Only  within  me  shines  a  radiant  light. 
I  haste  to  realize,  in  act,  my  thinking; 


FAUST  — PAKT  II  495 

The  master's  word,  that  only  giveth  might. 

Up,  vassals,  from  your  couch !  my  project  bold, 

Grandly  completed,  now  let  all  behold! 

Seize  ye  your  tools;  your  spades,  your  shovels  ply; 

The  work  laid  down,  accomplish  instantly ! 

Strict  rule,  swift  diligence, —  these  twain 

The  richest  recompense  obtain. 

Completion  of  the  greatest  work  demands 

One  guiding  spirit  for  a  thousand  hands. 

GBEAT    FORE-COUKT    OF    THE    PALACE 

Torches 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (as  overseer  leading  the  way) 
This  way !  this  way !    Come  on !  come  on ! 
Le  Lemures,  loose  of  tether, 
Of  tendon,  sinew,  and  of  bone, 
Half  natures,  patched  together! 

LEMURES  (in  chorus) 
At  thy  behest  we're  here  at  hand; 
Thy  destined  aim  half  guessing — 
It  is  that  we  a  spacious  land 
May  win  for  our  possessing. 
Sharp-pointed  stakes  we  bring  with  speed, 
Long  chains  wherewith  to  measure. 
But  we  Ve  forgotten  why  indeed 
To  call  us  was  thy  pleasure. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No  artist-toil  we  need  today: 

Sufficeth  your  own  measure  here : 

At  his  full  length  the  tallest  let  him  lay ! 

Ye  others  round  him  straight  the  turf  uprear; 

As  for  our  sires  was  done  of  yore, 

An  oblong  square  delve  ye  once  more. 

Out  of  the  palace  to  the  narrow  home  — 

So  at  the  last  the  sorry  end  must  come ! 


496  THE  GERMAN  CLASSICS 

LEMUBES  (digging,  with  mocking  gestures) 
In  youth  when  I  did  live  and  love, 
Methought,  it  was  very  sweet! 
Where  frolic  rang  and  mirth  was  rife, 
Thither  still  sped  my  feet. 

Now  with  his  crutch  hath  spiteful  age 
Dealt  me  a  blow  full  sore : 
I  stumbled  o'er  a  yawning  grave, 
Why  open  stood  the  door ! 

FAUST  (comes  forth  from  the  palace,  groping  his  way  by 

the  door  posts) 

How  doth  the  clang  of  spades  delight  my  soul ! 
For  me  my  vassals  toil,  the  while 
Earth  with  itself  they  reconcile, 
The  waves  within  their  bounds  control, 
And  gird  the  sea  with  stedf ast  zone  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside) 
And  yet  for  us  dost  work  alone, 
While  thou  for  dam  and  bulwark  carest; 
Since  thus  for  Neptune  thou  preparest, 
The  water-fiend,  a  mighty  fete ; 
Before  thee  naught  but  ruin  lies ; 
The  elements  are  our  allies; 
Onward  destruction  strides  elate. 

FAUST 

Inspector ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Here. 

FAUST 

As  many  as  you  may, 
Bring  crowds  on  crowds  to  labor  here ; 
Them  by  reward  and  rigor  cheer ; 
Persuade,  entice,  give  ample  pay! 
Each  day  be  tidings  brought  me  at  what  rate 
The  moat  extends  which  here  we  excavate. 


FAUST  — PART  n  497 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (half  aloud) 
They  speak,  as  if  to  me  they  gave 
Report,  not  of  a  moat — but  of  a  grave.* 

FAUST 

A  marsh  along  the  mountain  chain 

Infecteth  what's  already  won; 

Also  the  noisome  pool  to  drain — 

My  last,  best  triumph  then  were  won : 

To  many  millions  space  I  thus  should  give, 

Though  not  secure,  yet  free  to  toil  and  live ; 

Green  fields  and  fertile ;  men,  with  cattle  blent, 

Upon  the  newest  earth  would  dwell  content, 

Settled  forthwith  upon  the  firm-based  hill, 

Up-lifted  by  a  valiant  people's  skill; 

Within,  a  land  like  Paradise;  outside, 

E  'en  to  the  brink,  roars  the  impetuous  tide, 

And  as  it  gnaws,  striving  to  enter  there, 

All  haste,  combined,  the  damage  to  repair. 

Yea,  to  this  thought  I  cling,  with  virtue  rife, 

Wisdom's  last  fruit,  profoundly  true: 

Freedom  alone  he  earns  as  well  as  life, 

Who  day  by  day  must  conquer  them  anew. 

So  girt  by  danger,  childhood  bravely  here, 

Youth,  manhood,  age,  shall  dwell  from  year  to  year; 

Such  busy  crowds  I  fain  would  see, 

Upon  free  soil  stand  with  a  people  free; 

Then  to  the  moment  might  I  say : 

Linger  awhile,  so  fair  thou  art! 

Nor  can  the  traces  of  my  earthly  day 

Through  ages  from  the  world  depart! 

In  the  presentiment  of  such  high  bliss, 

The  highest  moment  I  enjoy — 'tis  this. 

(FAUST  sinks  back,  the  LEMUBES  lay  hold  of  him  and 
lay  him  upon  the  ground.) 


*  The   play   of  words   contained   in  the   original   cannot  be  reproduced   in 
translation,  the  German  for  Moat  being  Graben,  and  for  grave  Grab. 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  111  873     i 


